[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Open crates containing plastic wrapped components and pallets bearing specialized and custom made equipment formed a semi circle around the main terminal station and over sized High Density monitor. The overhead lights punctuated a stark contrast of light in the immediate area when compared to the deep shadows around. Now and then the flash of light from an arc-welder would flare up and the distinct smell of welded metal would cut sharply into the air.

Tim's legs stuck out from an exposed panel in the wall behind the steel and chrome workstation. The sounds of diligent labor partially muffled by the paneling testified to his connection to the evidence of the welder's activity.


"Amanda Waller."
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Gotham's winters are bitter and merciless. The bite in the air right now could do real damage to exposed anatomy if left unprotected for more than a few minutes. Tim pulled the hood of his cape over his head to give his ears a reprieve.

Moving like a ghost, he flitted silently between shadows making no sound at all as he bounded to the neighboring rooftop. Carefully he came to the edge and peered down into the alleyway.

Gold light lit up the dirty and garbage strewn snow, the illumination spilling from an open loading dock where men hurriedly moved crates into a waiting van. The vehicle's motor was running and it's driver looked up and down the alley with nervous impatience.

Drake sized up his targets and pulled a few tools from his belt.
[identity profile] krypton-or-bust.livejournal.com
The 'crunch crunch' of the snow accompanies Connor's stride through the dirty snow of the Gotham sidewalk. The top of his head and shoulders are already dusted in white as the weather continues to deposit a smattering of snowfall on the city. The sun is still creeping above the horizon as he makes his way through the bleak and decaying neighborhood of tenements and warehouses. The streets are more deserted than one might expect, but not entirely empty either. Many of the buildings here were abandoned and half of those that weren't were occupied by squatters seeking to escape the cold. It bothered him, but Tim had given him some perspective on the matter. They couldn't save everybody, not immediately, but they were doing good work.

Even so, deep inside he felt that there should be something more they could do for the 'right now'.

Reaching, his destination he balanced the cardboard drink caddie and the small brown paper sack in one hand as he pressed the door buzzer with the other. The responding tone sounded off shortly after, it's buzz an inconsistent drone similar to a dying insect.

Kicking the snow off his boots, he entered and made short work of the three story climb of stairs. Not that the cold bothered him at all, but the warmth being maintained in the large open space of the third floor was a welcome sensation. His Smallville High jacket got tossed on the second hand couch they had salvaged. The hot chocolates and the bag with breakfast burritos got deposited in the kitchenette. Connor looked around.

"Hey Bat-Mite, you here?"
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
This neighborhood in the East End was riddled with decrepit infrastructure, from crumbling roads to questionable sewer lines this part of Gotham rarely received the kind of attention to it's decaying bones that the more 'acceptable' areas of the city did from civic coffers. Grants from the Wayne foundation had served as a vital lifeline for years now, but even the generous donations from that philanthropic arm made only a few dents in the general state of disrepair. Recent event hadn't improved the situation.

In the last year, the city had been sieged by the extra terrestrial forces of Apokalips. During the conflict, considerable damage had been done to several neighborhoods and this one had been no exception. The city had survived other disasters, some frighteningly enough had been worse. Stoic in it's fortitude Gotham was once again slowly plodding it's way back to health again, but progress had been practically glacial so far.

Even so, a city road crew had been working daily on the street below. The crater like pothole, clogged sewer drains, and faulty street lights were all being attended to. Despite the noise, no one was complaining, least of all the newest tenants.
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
The place looked like a dump from the outside. The inside however...ok it looked like a dump too. The location was perfect however. Crime heavy neighborhood, poor lighting, and a number of city service tunnels ran underneath the property. It was the ideal spot for what he had in mind.

Tim poked one of the beams. The rotten wood practically gave like a crumbling sponge at his finger pressure.

"How are you with a hammer?"

Wounded

Sep. 9th, 2011 12:45 pm
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
In his particular 'calling', it doesn't matter how good you are. Eventually you will take a bullet. The trick is to be good enough to not take it in a fatal place.

Tonight, he was good enough.


But damn did it still hurt.




If he were closer to home, he'd be taking the Redbird back to the cave. There were allot of 'if's going on right now.

A quick and temporary bandage had stopped the bleeding...mostly. His armor and training had made the difference, even so he had a bullet in his arm. Damnit.

At 2am in the morning, the clinic is mostly empty. Even so, he caused a minor scene walking in like he did.

He thought about asking the volunteer nurse at the counter if the Doctor was in...but he knew she was and the rumor of his entrance had probably reached her by now.

So he stood there, waiting and bleeding.


Gunshots wounds tended to bring out the Bat-Grump in him after all.
[identity profile] gcpd-mcu.livejournal.com
 Captain Maggie Sawyer had been in a foul mood for awhile now. First that lunatic Johnny Sorrow killed nearly everyone working at Blackgate, unleashing it's criminals on the populace. Second that crazy preacher put the whole city under some kind of mind control in the name of some alien god. She'd been about to put a hole through that flaming psycho, Doctor Phosphorus', head when Sorrow reappears and backhands her into unconsciousness. And during that time the GCPD building was destroyed, forcing them to regroup elsewhere. And as if to add insult to injury, this new drug craze took root and now if she was hearing things right another new syndicate was making moves into Gotham. Does it ever fucking stop?

Maggie was currently taking a break, neither the albino nor the metal man were saying anything relevant.
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Six hours of sleep. Not bad. He had a late night, so it's nearly dawn now.
Shortly after waking, Tim is in the pool doing laps. It's a short workout and soon he's showered and finishing a breakfast of egg whites and steamed vegetables in solitude. He pops multivitamins with his water on the way out the door, slipping out of the manor like a ghost.

Pushing his motorcycle down the driveway, he coasts on the machine until he's a distance from the manor before starting the engine.

Off to Shiva's...
[identity profile] gotham-gargoyle.livejournal.com
After picking up one of the stashed motorcycles he'd hidden around the city, the Batman has made his way back home - through the cave entrance, of course. With any luck, he's preceded Dick by more than a minute. One of the downsides of the Batmobile is its comparative lack of maneuverability.

The security system recognizes his access codes, and he pulls onto the elevated parking bay, setting the cycle's kickstand and sliding off.

"Computer. Display recent casefile summaries."

Yes, he was here to see Alfred and Tim, but a quick peek at recent events would only take a few seconds.
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
The Chemistry Club, as it was advertised to Bane, doesn't resemble your standard meth lab. No heavies, no junkies prowling in the corners, no sleazy-looking dealers cutting drugs up with their credit cards.

This warehouse could masquerade as a S.T.A.R Labs testing chamber if you didn't look too closely. All of the staff are dressed well and wear the appropriate gear to shield themselves from the chemicals they're handling. Two or three men and women walk the aisles between workstations checking on the progress of their colleagues, and noting things down on clipboards as they observe the various tests being carried out.

Two chemists at one workstation inject unknown drugs into a caged dog and make feverish notes about the horrific effects the canine exhibits. A young woman with dead eyes pumps gas into a transparent box containing a chimpanzee, and raises an eyebrow as the chimpanzee begins to claw at its own flesh. She ticks a box and then turns her back on the animal.

One chemist, a man who goes by the name of Blakely, stands to one side of the workers and pulls a cellphone from his labcoat. He gets some glares as he uses it within the protected environment but ignores them. "Doctor; Diggs, Emmanuel and Issac have all made remarkable breakthroughs. Mm-hmm. The pills donated to Star City will mean that even those grungy youths will have something to smile about. We also have a new recruit joining us later. A big man with a big brain." He suddenly goes red and lowers his voice. "You said you wouldn't mention that. You know I can't control these things. You know it makes me feel ashamed. Yes, I know that's the point. You needn't mention my father again. I apologise."

Blakely walks to a quiet corner and looks over his shoulder to see if someone is watching. Confident that nobody cares, he continues. "So you will be making a visit to the lab tonight? Yes, I know you're not prone to exaggeration. Well we will have to tidy up a little. Well, you don't want to see dead animals all over the place, do you? Oh, okay. Well if these things don't bother you then..." Blakely begins to chew the inside of his cheek. "Don't say these things! Please! Look, I have to go. Please just.. There's no need to scare me like that."

Blakely hangs up, breathes out, and fans himself. He then storms across the lab and into a side room.

All the while unaware that a Boy Wonder is watching him...

Full Tilt

Mar. 28th, 2011 12:01 pm
[identity profile] jla-extras.livejournal.com
The place is technically a private party as far as the law is concerned. The people at the door know what they are doing and it makes it virtually impossible for officers of the law to get in. Combined with an insufficient GCPD budget, the recent invasion and numerous other problems that plague the city's services, what lies behind the door is virtually a playground of the illegal and sensual. "Full Tilt" as a result has rapidly become one of the hottest club rave scenes among Gotham's teen through twenty crowd.

The music matches the chemically altered heartbeats of many in the crowd. As a rule the patrons have a few things in common. They're young, generally pretty and have cash to spend. Some only qualify in part, making up for their shortcomings in one category by being lush in the others. It's a candy land of sensory overload, altered states and vibrant indulgence. Industrial ventilation keeps the heat of the crowd under control and clever layout and surreal lighting makes the already sizable location even more grandiose and mazelike. Three levels of catwalks support platforms where neon lit watering holes preside over translucent dance stages and go-go platforms. Youth, late minors and young adults alike, swarm everywhere in daring and revealing clothes as they move and gyrate to the fast paced rhythms that threaten to deafen the ear. This is where innocence is offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of sensual abandon.
[identity profile] mr-henshaw.livejournal.com
Across planet Earth on every major television network, every radio and every live stream using satellites to broadcast, the head and shoulders of the Cyborg Superman appears. Using his mastery over technopathy he broadcasts his message.

"People of Earth. Some few of you may know me as Hank Henshaw. I am also known to many as the Cyborg Superman. To most however, I am seen as the destroyer of Coast City."

The backdrop behind Henshaw's face turns to an image of the emblem of Neo Rann, rippling as if in the wind. "Not long ago I was released from my imprisonment on Oa by the Green Lantern Guardians, who assured me of my freedom. Wanting to start a new life for myself and for my friends, fellow outsiders, we met with representatives from species all over the known galaxy. It was made clear to us that a great threat existed in the universe, and this threat was known as Rann. A planet whose technology rivals even that of the beings that invaded Gotham City in your United States of America in recent months. With charters from multiple intelligent races and conglomerates I ended the Rannian threat, and occupied their abandoned territory."

An image of Neo Rann's position in the galaxy compared to that of Earth replaces the emblem. "Neo Rann poses no threat to planet Earth. We simply wish to build a home for outsiders such as myself. Yet at this very moment we are under attack by so-called heroes of Earth, including Green Lanterns who had until recently condoned my freedom." Henshaw raises a fist. "Once again I say we pose no threat to Earth, but were Earth attacked would you not make a retributive strike? I want it to be known that if the hand of Neo Rann is forced against Earth it is a reluctant gesture, and one forced by the aggression of your metahumans and the galactic vigilante squad known as the Green Lantern Corps. Any deaths on your world due to Neo Rann's reprisals can be laid at their doors. I offer peace providing they withdraw from Neo Rann this very instant."

Henshaw clenches his jaw and a solitary tear rolls down his cheek. "Please make them stop the violence, for we do not wish to harm anybody upon your planet. If we are forced to take actions, the blood is on the hands of the men and women you call your heroes. All we want is peace."

The transmission is cut, and back on Neo Rann the image of Henshaw turns to Malefic and smiles.

-

What do the people of Earth think of this?
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
It wasn't more than three blocks from his highschool. Circumstances had required Tim to withdraw from public school in favor of private tutors, but he still thought of it as ‘his’ highschool. This was too close to home to remain completely dispassionate.

The boy on the ground was twitching like he was holding onto a live wire. So much so, that Robin first checked for a hot line before touching him to be sure. Wedging a rubber seizure bit into his mouth he began triaging the situation. Eyes dilated, heart galloping like a racehorse, the fair haired boy on the ground was in bad shape. He might not make it…

"Spoler! Call an ambulance!"
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Zatanna's digs in San Francisco are less ominous than Shadowcrest, not that 'ominous' got to a teen that lived in Wayne Manor and hung out in the cave under it..when he wasn't sneaking around Gotham and beating up drug dealers.

Well maybe it spooked him a little. Magic was just hard to quantify, and Tim got anxious around chaotic variables he couldn't account for.

So he looked up Zee in her place in SF after departing from a meeting with the Titans.

Wearing jeans, hoodie and carrying a backpack over his shoulder, he looked just like any other teen. Well, insomuch as a teen trained to above olympic level of fitness would look. The hoodie helped with that and Tim was always of small stature to begin with.

Taking a breath, he walked up to Zee's door and prepared to knock...
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Tim's been very busy catching up on responsibilities and duties. He needed to make sure his affairs were handled before he took this next step. It is not an implication of diminished importance that has waited this long to attend to this matter, rather it is an indication that he very well understands it's gravity and wished to be certain that there would be no loose ends to distract him.

This required his complete focus.

Dressed in his civilian clothes, the hood of his Gotham High sweater up to deflect the rain, he walks into Richard Dragon's Dojo.

Rooftops

Feb. 10th, 2011 02:39 pm
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Large parts of Gotham have been described as a Hell Hole...and those were the nicer euphemisms. Conditions have worsened.
The GCPD building downtown, the one with the Bat Signal specifically, was pretty much destroyed when he and his impromptu team had fought the Furies. Temporary headquarters and facilities were being used while reconstruction happened but even with Waynetech funding, it would be awhile. That combined with the chaos of Darkseid's recent invasion had turned the already dangerous streets into a domain of the lawless.

So Robin was busy.



Meetings with the Titans, battle planning with Dick, crunching code with Babs, catching up on a year of school, it all added up. At least Neron's spell had hit the educational system too. They were easily baffled with a little paperwork, and as far as anyone knew Tim had been abroad with private tutors. It wasn't too far from the truth. He really was 'abroad', just not in Europe. Private tutors he had in spades, and they taught him things that even the most advanced special forces agents could only dream about. He was fine simplifying a complex truth with a basic white lie. All part of the cape and cowl lifestyle.

Priority #1 though was Gotham. Their city needed them badly and he would be there for it.

Right now however he had a special destination...Stephanie.

Even after all of the insane event of the past year, he still felt wobbly knowing she was alive. How long had she been alive? What happened? Was she the same Steph? It really screwed with him, and maybe he had avoided this appointment for a few days because of it. That bothered him too. Hesitation was a very dangerous luxury for someone like him, but it was also very human. So where did that leave him?


Roof top to roof top, he comes to a place very close to Steph's. he then perches on a water tower, plain for any who know where to look to see. He waits.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_bird_of_flame_/
Flamebird sits at the table, waiting for everyone else to show up. Drumming her fingers on the top of the table, she's not entirely sure why /she's/ at this meeting. Sure, she helps when Vic is caught up in one of this projects and makes sure that things are running smoothly when he's away. And she does monitor duty on the West Coast and the East Coast as needed but she's not a leader or anything.

It isn't like she's going to be giving either of these teams orders in the field any time soon, or possibly ever as far as she's concerned.

Still, she's here because while she reminded Vic, she's not entirely certain how deep into what he's doing Vic is right now and someone needs to show up.
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Not many would describe the Batcave as being 'homey', 'cozy' or any other adjective that denoted 'warm and welcoming'. Tim wasn't just anyone however.

There were few sights in this world that said 'home' like the under-lit gloom of the cave under Wayne Manor.


Habit, hard won and indelible to his nature now, had him logging in a report to the Bat Computer as soon as he arrived. Ten minutes into the report, Tim laughed at himself wearily.

"Dear Bat-diary. Life in Hell sucks. So glad Lady Shiva and Richar dDragon makes house calls to The Pit..."

Removing the mask, Tim rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Careful Drake. Talking to yourself might get you a trip to Arkham.."
[identity profile] krypton-or-bust.livejournal.com
They saved the day. They won!
Batman was going to be Debbie Downer about it, but as far as Conner was concerned, they pimp slapped freaking DARKSEID out of Gotham. THAT was a cause to celebrate.

A quick tour of Gotham's skies confirms Robin's search grid and he comes back to Gotham Square where most of the cape and cowl crew had collected. A swoop and an indulgent loop-the-loop and he lands near Scarab.

"Hey bro! Those were some badass moves back there!"
[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Darkseid has been defeated and his henchmen were routed.
With Doctor Fate's intervention the Anti-Life effect was quickly vanishing from the minds of Gotham's citizens. Even so, Batman was right. The city had suffered greatly.

Tim took a moment. It was weird referring to Dick as Batman.
Don't think about it right now. he chided himself silently, pushing the ball of emotion back down to his feet.
Time for that later.


Looking down from his vantage point, he saw Gotham. It looked wounded, like a survivor of some terrible war. It would recover. Gotham was tough and had survived grievous devastation before, but there would be scars. There were always scars.

Like a silent shadow, he drops into the dark bellow and reappears from the egress of an alleyway near Bane. The big man took some serious hits curring the conflict. His injuries are apparent.

He doesn't like Bane.
It's hard not to find some respect for him however. Off of the Venom, the man seems... different.
He's still a murderer though.
He did risk his life to help save Gotham.
He works for Waller supposedly.

Bane's a puzzle.

Even so...

Robin opens the Titans channel on his comm link.
"Flamebird. It's Robin, do you copy?
I'm at the North end of the square near the busted fountain. I've got somebody who benefit from a field medic."

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