18133/Eating Out Blows (Up)

Eating Out Blows (Up)
Date of Scene:	29 May 2024
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	The Batman and Talia al Ghul finally find common ground to cooperate and work together: saving the life of their son!
Cast of Characters:	Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul

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Damian Wayne has posed:
Damian pulls off his tie as he walks toward the kitchen. He drops it on the ground as he passes the waiter with his wine. That tie cost $800. He doesn't normally wear cheap ties, but it was all that was available on short notice. As he passes through the kitchen and out the rear door of the restaurant he clicks his Wayne Enterprises phone into encrypted mode. He dials the relay that forwards the call to a satellite that forwards the call to another satellite that forwards the call to a relay in Calcutta, and through a hundred some-odd cell towers until it dials Delphi's phone.

Damian's phone makes a clicking sound as it is picked up. A voice, not Carrie's, answers. It sounds ...generic... "Robin." is all it says. A ding on his phone in encrypted mode shows another photo. Another short video, same gait analytics. Someone has matched Damian Wayne to Robin. The kind of data search required to do that would need a super computer beyond belief and the stubbornness not to give up looking for that needle in a haystack.

The screen turns in to a digital eye that looks at Damian briefly. The voice speaks again, "Good. Bye."

Inside the restaurant in the kitchen Damian just walked through the gas erupts as the city's digital regulators fail. The restaurant explodes.

Damian's body is hurled across the alley in back of Mr. Powers Amazing Chinese Restaurant -- at least what's left of it -- and slams against the wall of a pawn shop. The only sound he can hear is a loud, piercing ringing that is originating from inside his own shock-damaged ears. Blood trickles from both nostrils and both ears. He can barely breath. People are screaming and running, and general panic is ensuing.

He has the presence of mind to look down at his phone. Whatever had taken it over was gone now. He clicks a combination of keys that would alert anyone on the Bat comm system of a priority one emergency. Delphi took the Bat computer offline and Damian vaguely wonders if anyone will get his call for help as the world closes in and consciousness is taken from him.

"Is that dude dead?" someone asks.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Technically, nobody gets the call for help. Batman had been at the computer when it suddenly went dark. Pulled offline despite the fact there enough redundencies built into the system that it rivaled some alien technology, steely blue eyes stare at the empty screen when it suddenly goes black. Bruce immediately flips it into safe mode with a few keystrokes, which wont allow him to access any of the routing software that provides to the second video feeds, vital monitoring, and the assortment of other nicities the Knights have enjoyed for the last decade and a half, but it does let him reference any sudden spikes in activity.

Working quickly, he reduces the relevant interface options to a series of short burst transmissions. These are his satelites, using his access codes, on a network he built... the fact that it takes a whole minute is a luxury of time he simply does not have. There's a reason his computer suddenly went dark and it has absolutely nothing to do with a power outtage.

Which is when he finds it. A transmission from Damian. A distress call.

The computer is shut back down, at least until Tim & Babs can go over the encryption, but he makes a dump file of every series of burst transmissions to the network. Whatever just put it's digital fingers into the Dark Knights world? They shouldn't have done that. It'll be a frozen day in hell that /that/ happens again.

Right now he has to save his son.

Switching over to analog communications, he retrieves one of the oldest pieces of equipment from his utility belt: Waynetechs answer to the NOKIA Razor. The Waynemobile Gargoyle. His cowl comes up over his head as he swings into the batmobile, suped up, sleek black, 'probably once upon time' Camero with a rocket propulsion system integrated into the combustion engine.

He thumbs the numbers as the black vehicle cuts through the access tunnels, skids onto an old road seldom used except by him and his, when Talia's phone rings. A similar device. A break incase of emergency phone. "Talia. System is no longer secure. Text me your location. Damian is hurt." He sounds as calm as Bruce always does, but he's driving at speeds that even he's not sure is safe.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Her son was on a date. Talia found that sort of thing admirable. An indication that he had made more of himself than she could have ever done. That he was having a semblance of normalcy. That he was getting to experience having his own life. Something she had forever denied him until he had escaped her clutches and he had joined his proper family.

So she's a few blocks away, intent on keeping a passing observation of it because her maternal instincts being somewhat well intended at the level they operated at.. Were extremely misguided when it came to how they displayed themselves (as anyone who had ever read 'Love You Forever' could attest).

She wasn't in the communications network, and she was staying enough of a distance away to not know what was going on inside.. But when the explosions went off.. She would scramble.

She would be racing towards it with her heart beating rapidly. Taking breaths to slow it down and get it to normal. Her son was there. He wasn't expecting trouble or a trap. Her son was there.

Some instincts she had were still good, in her own twisted way. She was the Daughter of the Demon. Talia Al Ghul races along towards the fire, arm going to take out her katana in one smooth twist from the sheathe as she would head the distance at a full sprint. Murder in her intent.

Damian Wayne has posed:
There is that moment immediately following any big emergency when the world is strangely, eerily peaceful by comparison of what just came before and what is about to come. The explosion rocked the immediate area, shattering the windows of buildings and cars. Even the security alarms in those buildings and cars are quiet in contrast to the explosion that just happened, and the wave of emergency vehicle sirens that have not yet been dispatched. It's like the entire area is holding its breath for a tiny slice of time.

Then all at once all hell breaks loose. People are screaming. Flames are rapidly climbing higher and lighting up the night like some angry, glowing, growing godling.

Damian is completely unconscious now. Frankly, he is lucky to even be alive. The endless training and perfection of his body is all that separated him from permanent oblivion. His body actually starts to twitch and tug. Is he waking up? No. A homeless guy is tugging off his shoes. $1,200 black leather Prada shoes that he'll probably sell at a pawn shop for $20. Or trade for some pills or weed. He probably should have taken the watch. Or checked for a wallet. But the shoes were the low-hanging fruit to grab and run.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Her son is here. Her son is here. And trapped underneath all of that. Is he even still alive? How close to the explosion was he? She's charging in at high speed, paying no mind to the homeless man. The fact that the boots are still intact is a good thing. It means likely some of the body is intact beneath and not melted. Or at least enough for her to put into the Pit to revive. She takes several moments to arrive - she's still having to run from a few blocks away.

She arrives just as the homeless man is pawing over at the shoes. Katana in hand, she goes to sweep the area, a crazed madwoman as she ignores bits of flame and fire falling onto her, leaving ashen marks upon her face and fizzling. Looking for threats rapidly. If there's anyone else along the street that so much looks like a faint threat their life might be forfeit. But there is none.

Just the wreckage of the street, the fire, and the smashed in window of the pawn shop.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The fact Bruce had been at a satelite cave, one of the ones dedicated to the undead problems Gotham is facing, is the only reason he'd arrive before emergency services. That and his complete disregard for public safety and traffic laws. There's no vehicle in Gotham, from the EMS bus to the GCPD cruiser, that can cut through the city as effortlessly at the speeds at which he's driving. Cutting corners with a swaying fishtail and sudden blast of momentum from the acceleration rocket. With his thumb keying buttons as it latches to the tightened steering wheel. It gives him more control, shorter turn radius, quicker response.

"Alfred. I need you to prep one of the medical pods." He can already see the flames licking the sky from the explosion just a block away. "Expecting heavy casualties and chaos. Use the analog tracking on my phone." Once he receives confirmation, the phone is tossed over into the passanger seat.

So both hands can grip the steering wheel, cut it to the side in a power slide. The door opens and the dark knight steps out of the vehicle as it's shifting into park. Immediately airborne with a fired grapple, pulling him up and over the top of the building. He's not relying on the high tech functions of his cowl, for now. Not until he's certain everything is secure. Blue eyes search, every detail. Blast radius... original point of detonation. The front of the building is litered with people, injured. Scared.

Back door.

GET HIS SHOES The familiar vissage of Talia wielding a Katana.

Batman drops down behind the homeless man tugging at the Prada shoe, slaps a hand on the back of his neck and turns the man to face him. He's staring at his mangled son. But blue eyes turn slowly to look at him. The grime expression beneath his cowl. The sudden release of pressure... Tonight's not the night to find out if he's the one. He turns and runs. Batman immediately kneels down beside Talia and nods at the bit of rubble half covering their son. His fingers leach beneath it and every muscle in his considerably thick arms stands out as he hoists it up with a groaning grunt of effort. "Pull him out." He says in a eerily calm voice despite the chaos all around them. The screaming of injured... the crack and pop of after shock explosions where fire tracks fuel lines in the questionably structurally secure buildings around them. A counter position to Talia's urgency is Batman's deliberate, hurried, but absurdly calm, external demeanor.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Lifting the rubble off of Damian's body decreases his thoracic blood pressure, which allows his heart to beat more efficiently. As Talia slides his body out, Damian actually starts to regain a bit of consciousness. His eyes flutter open. Thick black brows that speak to his Middle Eastern heritage set above crystal green eyes. In any other setting one might take a beat to admire his appearance.

"Mama," he murmurs when he sees Talia. Never in all of his days upon the Earth has he ever uttered that word. Talia is mother and Bruce is father. Where he is right now is anybody's guess. He reaches up and his fingertips caress gently across Talia's cheek. "Mama," he repeats hoarsely. "You can pet Ace."

From behind: a sudden scream. An Asian man who was in the kitchen at the time of the explosion bursts out of what's left of a doorway. His hair and clothes are on fire, and he flails and runs, which makes the fire burn more. The screaming! It's the stuff of nightmares.

Police are the first emergency units to arrive. They were already out on the road patrolling, not quartered in place like fire and EMS. They can be heard shouting orders trying to clear bystanders away from the wreckage. It doesn't take an expert in human psychology to hear in their voices that they are barely maintaining their own inner order, much less the public order.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
She takes Damian out of the rubble as smoothly as she can. As quickly as she can. Her posture stiff as her katana is left abandoned by her side. She supports Damian as tenderly as she can and gets him away from the rubble. There's a choked sob from her that Damian might or might not notice. But Bruce definitely will.

"Thank you. I.. Appreciate that. I also have to meet Shadow. I'm told that you're becoming quite the afficionado of animals." Talking quietly. Keeping Damian focused. Checking him quickly for signs of major injury - spinal damage, internal injuries.. The pain will come shortly and she has to keep him as distracted and focused as she can before it does.

The man screamingin the background is completely ignored by Talia. He doesn't matter. None of the other casualties or collateral damage matters. They're left for emergency services.

All of her attention is in one place at the moment as she goes to start sweeping the area in a completely paranoid fashion now, hand going to grab up her dropped blade to look out for oncoming threats.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Talia has Damian.

Once the boy is pulled from the wreckage of a wall and a safe enough distance that Bruce knows dropping it wont cause any further harm, he releases his grip and grunts as it falls from his arms. Leaning forward with a hiss of air that accompanies the spray of dust across his already sweat soaked features beneath the black, dust greyed, cowl. Blue eyes shift from son, to mother, to burning Asian man running out of the back of the kitchen. Surreal. It reminds him of the beginning of No Mans Land.

Bruce is not nestalgic.

He pushes off Talia's shoulder and leaps upont he Asian, smothering the flames by wrapping him in the flame retardant cape. Gas fires, possibly grease. Deep tissue damage, he's careful about how he lays the man down on the alleyway to check his wounds and swats away any hand attempting to touch the burns, "Don't touch it." He commands in a cool voice, retrieving a medicated gel from his utility belt. In lue of the medical supplies from the pod he'd had Alfred drop. Which is probably proving complicated without the advanced software from the Batcomputer. Still, he trusts that it'll come.

Alfred isn't stupid.

A syringe gun is loaded with a sedative, something to give the cook comfort without decreasing his respirations too dramatically given the likelihood of respiratory damage, Batman does one final check of vitals and is suddenly back beside Talia. "He's in shock. Roll him, secure his neck." He directs her, pointing towards his head, so that when Bruce pushes Damian up by the shoulder it wont cause in further damage to the spine that may already be present. His hand slides along his back, eyes closed, feeling for disrupted segments or bulging disks that might indicate spinal damage.

He nods, helps settle their son back down, "His spine is intact." He's looking around, not paranoid, but observing. "Could be internal damage, but I wont know until we get him to the cave. Stay with him. I'll go get the car." A hand on her shoulder, "He's going to be okay." From her shoulder, to her cheek, then he's moving away again. The calm amidst the chaos. The black shadow in the fiery storm.

Damian Wayne has posed:
The man from the restaurant falls into merciful unconsciousness. Someone with burns like that has very little chance of surviving. He died when the building exploded, it just hasn't sunk in yet. The final act of kindness he will know in this world is an injection from a man in a Bat costume.

"What's this fuckin' car doing ri...Christ, Bobby, is that the Batmobile?" says one of growing number of Gotham cops on the scene. Man, if someone -- or something -- wanted to take out cops, this would be how you'd do it. First one boom, then another, larger boom.

The other cop -- Bobby -- is staring at the Batman moving toward the vehicle in question. "Yeah...I...I'd say that's probably the fuckin' Batmobile, Tommy." With an incredulous look on his face, he lifts one hand in a wave to the Caped Crusader. Most people go their entire lives without ever being this close to the Batman.

"I'm not cold anymore," Damian murmurs gently as his eyes close and his breathing stops.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Is that.. Reassurance? From the Bat? At a better point Talia might notice it and be able to tell or not. Now,with all her focus being on Damian.. She would give a nod to Bruce's assessment, going to keep Damian braced up as Bruce had instructed, surveying the area to look about for any further threats. She takes a hard breath to center herself and as the medical pod and she's going to slide in next to him in whatever passenger seat there is.

There is no attention being given to the man that Batman is helping to pass away in utter pain, giving him peace in his final moments. There is only Damian.

And he goes to speak a few slurred words, and then he goes quiet and stops breathing.

And through the air Talia's sobs would echo until silenced by the folding of the soundproof cockpit about them.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman is not interested in the GCPD.

He stares at them as he paces, moving at a speed that's quick without running. There's a grace to him that defies logic to anyone who doesn't put in as much effort in training as he does, using his body like a machine. The sleek black vehicle that is the batmobile sits impressively intimidating amidst the licking flames and chaos. An inkspot of magnificently constructed machinary, much like the owner. Who peers at the cops as he slides into the front seat, levered on a hand laid across the roof. When he speaks, it's without venom, just deliberate. Pointing at the injured, the scared. "Do your job."

That isn't Batman's job.

    Not tonight.

From the back of the vehicle he retrieves a medical bag. A case with magnetic seals that he sets in the front seat as he pulls the vehicle around and brings it closer to the alleyway. Where he can return to the side of son and mother. With his brow furrowed beneath his cowl as he approaches.

Calm, patience... the bag falls from his shoulder and he slides down on his knees beside Damian. "Talia, focus. He's not breathing." He curls his fist fingers up, places it over his sons sternum, covers it with the other hand, and begins compressing his chest. "Huff huff huff..." Blue eyes cut to her.

"In the case. AED. Grab it." In the span of half seconds, Bruce rips open the front of Damian's shirt with a tug to expose his chest for proper placement of pads. She has medical training. "Huff huff huff" He doesn't stop compressing for breaths. Not until Talia is free back at his side to give them. Hard and fast. Hands on CPR.

Damian Wayne has posed:
The sound of even more sirens rip open the night. The GCFD fire and EMS vehicles are responding now. It will take them very little time to surround the scene to drown out the flames and care for the wounded and dying. They'll be triaged into those who are going to die no matter what, those who are going to live no matter what, and those who stand a chance if they get help now.

Most of the cops here are behaving quite heroically despite the two idiots who were near the Batmobile. They are involved in tasks from clearing people away from the danger to blocking off access to non-emergency vehicles to keeping looters from taking advantage of the chaos. But once Batman leaves the immediate area, the first two cops -- Billy and Tommy -- go back to what they were doing previously: loading jewelry from a shop into the trunk of their GCPD radio car. Some people are just pieces of shit.

As the automated defibrillator detects a ventricular tachycardia it announces in its robot voice: "Stand clear." Then it rips 200 joules through young Damian's body. No effect. "Stand clear." It send 200 joules into that form again. Nothing. "Stand clear." 360 joules this time, causing all the major muscles to briefly contract. Nothing. "Resume CPR for one minute." Bossy little thing, ain't it?

Two paramedics from the GCFD round the corner into the alley carrying gear. They see the Batman himself performing CPR on some kid. They run over. "We got this, Batman," one of the paramedics says.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
There are withering looks and then there's 'Batman'.

There is nobody in Gotham, possibly no human in the world, with the cardio of Bruce Wayne beneath this cowl. Few who know exactly how deep to compress a chest to achieve maximum circulation to the heart without breaking more ribs than is absolutely necessary. And /zero/ whom he would trust to do CPR on his /son/. The Batman, himself, is doing CPR on some boy. Huffing out a count he doesn't speak out loud, Bruce continues on the singular task. Between instructions from the AED, breaths provided by Talia, and his own internal clock keeping track of how long it's been since he roughly last saw Damian take a breath.

When the EMTs run up beside him and say they got this?

He doesn't even pause in his compressions. He only barely looks up. There's no expression of scorn or animosity in his eyes. There's no vengence incarnate willing to thrust upon the speaker with great harm if they don't escape his presence with immediacy. That expression says... No. And it says it in a clear visual language on the primordial, lizard brain, wavelength that requires no verbalization.

huff huff huff

For those who require verbal recourse, however, he says in a chillingly calm voice despite the sweat rolling down the visible portion of his face, "There are plenty of people who can use your help. Find one." He trusts the medical professionals to almost anyone in Gotham.

Damian isn't one of them.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Technically speaking, this is their duty, and Batman is interfering in it. Technically speaking. But realistically speaking, this is the Batman and ain't nobody going to try to push past him. So they do just what Batman suggested/commanded: they get up and start helping the wounded.

And then a sound: a deep, gasping intake of breath. Damian's respiratory reflexes return in a snap. And if Batman were to check for a pulse he would find one. It's weak and thready, but it's there. Like many in the Bat Family, Damian's cardiopulmonary system health rivals the best athletes in the world. Weak and thready is all he needs. He's still unconscious, but his pulse and respirations have resumed at life-sustaining levels.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Technically speaking, that is absolutely true. Technically speaking, he's a agreived parent who is getting in the way. It happens frequently, far more so than anyone should be comfortable with. A father who thinks he knows better because he is a father. A father who thinks their training in medicine, advanced study in life saving techniques, the most relevant data on cardiovascular ressuitation and advanced practices, is better than that of the EMTs who are trained in them.

Plenty of fathers have tried, and failed, to save their child.

None of those fathers are Batman.

On any other night, in any other situation, he'd have stepped aside and gone to do what the people of Gotham assume he is best suited to: breaking into the building, pulling people out of the flames, or finding who is responsible for this. It is neither a normal night nor a normal situation. He's not gambling that these are the two best EMTs in Gotham. He's gambling on himself because the patient isn't just some person. Which, rationally, he realizes is against every code of ethics he's followed for the entirety of his career in the shadows.

He already lost one son... has already held a dying child in his arms. While that was nobodies fault but the Clowns, there no chance in hell that he's going to bank on the 6 weeks of training EMTs get before heading out onto the streets. Is it fair? No... nobody should have that level of authority to brush of medical professionals.

But this is Gotham and he is Batman.

The first breath, gasping, and Bruce is stopping compressions to check for a pulse. Finding one, if weak, he nods to Talia and grabs something else from the bag. It extends out with a press of a button and fixes into a rigid brace onto which he can strap the fallen Damian. While he, inwardly, wants to move Damian to the Batcave, which has a host of medical equipment with which he is fairly well certain are, at the very least, on par with Gotham Medical, it would lead to too many questions.

So he, with Talia's help, moves Damian by that backboard towards one of the EMS positioned around. Rattling off a list of injuries to the EMTs. In a form of apology, perhaps, that never remotely includes the words 'I'm sorry'. Breathing heavily. The heat, the effort of CPR (which is incredibly taxing, for the record. Even for someone as physically fit as Bruce). He watches them load Damian into the back of the ambulance... then looks back at the burning wreckage of a building. There'll be data to collect inside. Things the police will miss. Things he's already missed himself because of the gravitas of the situation.

He's going to collect it.

Then he's going to visit two police officers late into their shift as their unloading jewelry from their cruiser.

He was busy at the moment. They may think they pulled a fast one right under his nose...

    But he's still The Batman.