15511/Gala Getaway

Gala Getaway
Date of Scene:	31 July 2023
Location:	City Center - Metropolis
Synopsis:	While in Metropolis for a charity gala, Red Robin is in the right place at the right time (or maybe the wrong place at the wrong time) to assist with a train derailing. Superboy drops in to offer his assistance, and it turns out they work well as a team!
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Jon Kent

---

Tim Drake has posed:
    The thing you have to know about the Waynes is that they have a lot of social obligations. Obligations that can take them across the country or even to other countries on other continents, depending on the time, place, and charity involved.

    Tonight though it's for one of the charities that the Martha Wayne Foundation supports, and this one is headquartered in Metropolis, which is a short enough trip to take in a private jet. Tim's on the roster for tonight -- and yes, they have a rotating roster to determine who is responsible for making an appearance at these sorts of things -- but he never quite gets there.

    Oh, he intends to show up. Fashionably late, of course. But on the drive in he hears a tremendous crash and then several explosions following it, and he slips out through the sunroof with his driver being none the wiser.

    There are rules about metas in Gotham, but are there any rules about Bats in Metropolis?

    Who knows. What matters is there's been a derailment of a commuter train, and somehow Tim's able to be on the scene basically immediately. He's no more than a shadow in red and black as he grapples up to a nearby rooftop and takes a second or two to survey the damage.

    It's pretty bad. Two train cars are overturned entirely, having fallen off the line into the street below, and another hangs dangerously over them. Who knows how long it will remain so. There's nothing Red Robin can do about that beyond attaching a couple of grapple lines to it, but that is a temporary measure if anything at all.

    What he can do is evacuate the area below, which means plunging into the still smoking wreckage of the nearest train car, full of broken glass and sharply bent metal and screaming people.

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon doesn't really ever have to deal with social events very much. He did attend one a week or two ago with Phoebe Beacon and Gabby Kinney at which a gunman crashed the party! So in terms of social events that go as planned vs. social events that go unpleasantly off the rails, his ratio is not real great.

Today, he is in the Hall of Justice on monitor duty. As a junior trainee of the League, he gets this sort of duty a LOT. In fact, he's pretty sure that Diana has been messing with the rotation so Jon has extra shifts. But whatever. This is what Jon dreamed of, being a member of the Justice League...even if he is barely a step above cleaning the bathrooms.

"Oh, golly," he exclaims as he is jolted into alertness by an alarm sounding. He types a few commands into the computer panel at which he's seated and sees the sudden news about the train. Next, a list of League members and their locations fills the screen. Literally *all* of them are out of town -- some of them are off world.

He stands up from his watch station. "Okay, Jon, you got this!" he says to himself. He jumps up and down a couple of times and shake-shake-shakes his arms to get the blood pumping and to siphon off some nervous energy. Then he THUNDERS up into the air, going out through the automated roof hatch.

"Easy, kid," he admonishes himself. "Keep it subsonic."

From the ground, a blue and red streak can be seen racing across the sky in the direction of the wreckage. Mr. Full-Of-Himself grabs the dangling car and goes upward with it...before he realizes his error. Pulling the car upwards causes the next car in line to fall off the tracks. Now he's hovering in the air with one car while the next car dangles below it. There is a screeching of bent metal and that second, dangling car begins to plummet as it breaks free.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Once on the ground, there's a lot. Just, a lot. Chaos all around him, but Tim thrives in situations like this. After all, Gotham isn't exactly known to be a peaceful seaside town.

    First order of business is to get the people who can move on their own, out of the train car. He wedges open one of the doors with his staff, leaving it half-telescoped out there as a makeshift pry bar, and then one by one he waves people through.

    Thankfully this late in the evening on a weekday, there wasn't a huge crowd traveling home from work.

    "Ma'am, I'm going to get you out of here," is what he's currently saying to a woman stuck still in the wreckage when he hears something that causes him to look up through one of the broken windows, seeing the blue and red streak overhead.

    No, he doesn't do anything like sigh in relief like some of the Metropolis citizens must do when seeing those colors in this city. But he's relieved all the same to have some backup. What he doesn't realize is the danger that's about to come barreling down at him.

    In the meantime, though, he lets out a grunt of effort as he frees the woman from the seat that had collapsed over her, and that's when he hears the sound of metal shearing from above. No time to even look, all he does is lift the young lady up in a fireman's carry and sweep out through the still-open door, hopefully in time to escape the train car crashing down from above!

Jon Kent has posed:
Sure, Kryptonians are strong...strong asf! But there are limits, and Jon is still developing into his powers. Although he is 19, he is still whip-thin and youthful of build, so our boy can't lift Clark-level stuff. Not yet. But he messed up and there is no time to stop to figure things out. So he grabs the fender of the car in one hand, grunting and straining as he transfers some 40 tons to one hand. Then he allows himself to drop rapidly, which elicits a wave of fresh screams from the people in the car, but it allows him to grab the second, falling car. Also with one hand. If this was Planet Fitness, he'd definitely get hit with the Lunk Alarm because he is grunting and yelling as he straaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiins to get the cars until control.

When he lowers both cars to the ground, they don't hit *TOO* hard, but they do hit *HARD*. It was the best he could do. And now Superboy is down on one knee, his head lowered, holding his aching arms against his body. As he kneels there, his Kryptonian physiology is rapidly self-healing from damage that would have shredded hardened steel.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Getting people to safety is Red Robin's chiefest concern at present, so as he's dashing free of the immediate danger zone with a woman over his shoulder, he's also shouting for the rest of them to "Move! Get back!"

    Only, of course, for the assembled crowd to erupt into cheers as Superboy saves the day! They're all looking up, arms raised or brought together in applause as he arrests the falling motion of the second car while still managing to hold onto the first.

    Even the woman Tim is carrying, as he sets her down carefully on the pavement, looks up with wide eyes. "Superboy!" she cries out. "Oh thank god, we're saved!"

    Red Robin stands back up, sweating in the July heat, and shakes his head a little.

    He, too, looks up... for only a moment. And then he's diving back into the scene, this time into the train car that had started the derailment. This one is more worse for wear, its front half significantly crumpled and smoke billowing from the broken windows. As he carefully slips through one, Red Robin presses something over his nose and mouth, and then he's disappeared.

    Though superhuman hearing will be able to pick out the muttered, "I'll never get used to this city," and the following, muffled, "Crap," from amongst all the chatter and city noises as he surveys the insides. Things are bad.

    "Superboy, if you can hear me," Red Robin's saying now at normal volume. "We've got some seriously injured people in here. I need an exit big enough for a stretcher for the paramedics. Think you can crack this thing open like a can of tuna?"

    Already he's working to stabilize several people with portable neck braces that he pulls from his utility belt, but that's all he can do... and one end of the train car is on fire.

Jon Kent has posed:
People start to close in on the kneeling half-Kryptonian. They're saying things like 'Is he alright?' and 'I think Superboy's hurt.' and 'Can doctors even treat him?' But then he suddenly stands, and the crowd lets out a collective gasp as everyone takes a few steps back as though they were acting as one. His arms still hurt like hell, but he can move them again, and with each passing moment they heal more and more. If it was daytime, it would be done by now. But emergencies don't only occur on bright, sunny days.

"It's okay, folks," he says in best approximation of the tone Superman uses when he talks to the public. "Stand aside, please. Thank you."

Jon-El steps closer to the train that Red Robin is in. "We need medics over here!" he calls out as he grabs the side of the car and literally starts peeling it open. The people inside, including Tim, are treated to wave of fresh air. Then Superboy draws in a deep breath and exhales. The smoke and debris in the air inside the car are blown and dissipated by a wave of cold air. He doesn't allow it to get too cold so as not to harm anyone.

"Red Robin," Superboy says when he has peeled open the car. "Medics are coming now. Tell me what else you need."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Once that first wave of fresh air hits, Red Robin peels the rebreather from the lower half of his face and tucks it into his utility belt. No need for it, now, and he spares a grateful thought upwards while still focusing on the work of his hands.

    Only for a shiver to rush down his spine as the cold breath hits the exposed skin of his face. It's not an unusual experience, for that little bit of him to be faced with the elements, but usually there's a gradual drop of temperature and not a sudden oncoming cool wave.

    Which Tim appreciates, between the heat of the fading day and the now-receding heat of the fire.

    "Right now we just need to get them out of here."

    So far only one ambulance has been able to make it on the scene, but there are others en-route, their sirens audible even to Red Robin's base-human hearing. Just as Jon announces they're coming, two paramedics push through the crowd with a bright orange spineboard. "We're here, Superboy! We've got this," the leading one says as he peers over the edge of the toppled train car.

    This is when Red Robin's head pops up, causing some fright.

    "There are three people down here. One with severe burn injuries to the leg, the other two with suspected spinal injuries, I have them stabilized," he says, the white-out lenses of his domino mask making his gaze impenetrable. Well, so long as you don't have X-ray vision.

    He looks between the two paramedics. "This is your scene now. Tell us what you need."

    The two paramedics nod, one peering uncertainly at Red Robin before they climb over the edge and slip down into the wreckage. They work to get the first patient on the spineboard, a quick "1-2-3" before they move them in a fluid motion. "Can you help lift them out?" they ask, looking up at Superboy.

Jon Kent has posed:
Like Red Robin, Superboy, too, defers completely to the paramedics as they arrive. He watches Red Robin interact with them, noting the Gotham vigilante's expertise and professionalism.

When the paramedics request his assistance, Superboy instantly replies, "Of course, sir!" He takes each backboarded patient as they handed to him, lifting them like one would lift a piece of paper.

One woman is crying. "Am I going to live?" she asks up at Superboy.

"Shhhhhhh," he coos reassuringly. "You're in good hand, ma'am." He surreptitiously scans her body with his X-ray vision and winces a bit. After handing her back off to paramedics in an ambulance, he pulls one aside. "Ma'am, that woman has damage to her spine, down low near her hips."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Superboy," the paramedic says as she climbs up in the back of the ambulance.

As the vehicle speeds off in a flash of lights and a wail of sirens, Superboy stands there watching it depart, perhaps wondering if his clumsy handling of the train caused her serious injury. "I pay a price for these powers," he once told his mother. But are others now paying, too?

Tim Drake has posed:
    There are still others with serious injury down here on the ground, and more waiting in the trains above for rescue. Another group of paramedics arrive, a whole contingent of them it seems, to begin triage.

    But Red Robin doesn't leave until the people on this car are freed. Two more, and he watches intently behind his mask as Superboy ferries them with care to the waiting ambulances.

    It isn't until the Metropolis police arrive that Red Robin even seems to pause. But this isn't Gotham, and they aren't the GCPD. He doesn't have to run a complex background check and spend a significant amount of time monitoring them just to know if they're trustworthy or not. They rush on the scene and begin crowd control, establishing a perimeter to ensure the paramedics can do their jobs safely and without interruption.

    "We should check the cars up above for injuries. Likely just minor, but someone could have hit their head or taken a fall from the rapid deceleration," he says, and then he unclasps the grapple gun from his hip, aiming it upwards.

    A quick hiss of decompressing air and then Red Robin zips up into the air, alighting on the tracks with the ease of long practice. He looks left, then right, then starts walking along the tracks towards the nearest stalled train car, where he wedges open the door with significantly less effort than last time. Still, his staff goes right back into place again.

    There's a reason why he picked it as his weapon of choice. Its non-lethality, to start, but there are so many useful things that a stick can be, and that's what it is at the end of the day. A useful tool.

Jon Kent has posed:
Here in Metropolis, the House of El enjoys an excellent relationship with the authorities. They know beyond all doubt that none of the supers will challenge or interfere with them, and the House of El knows the city authorities and police will act honorably and police their own with diligence. It's a very nice dynamic.

A small grin forms on Superboy's lips as Red Robin gives orders. Jon has no ego to bruise, and his level of politeness pretty much goes off the charts. So as Red Robin grapples his way up, Superboy begins to rise upwards, his cape billowing around him. It's quite a sight to see.

Superboy begins looking around with a distant gaze. Of course, he is using his X-ray vision to search for survivors. "It looks clear, Robin," he calls out. "Is it...do I...is calling you Robin okay? Or do you prefer Red Robin?"

As Superboy lands and approaches Red Robin, who now knows that he is Jon Kent, it's quite easy to see. One might wonder how the Kents can get away with not wearing masks or otherwise hiding their faces. It's quite silly to even think it would work. But as Jon's performance at the ice cream parlor showed, the art of lowered expectations conceals much. People see what they want to see.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Suffice it to say, Metropolis is a very different place than Gotham. And it's a hard pill to swallow, that one little trip up to Delaware is all it took to find a place so vastly different in just about every conceivable way.

    He looks back when Superboy gives the all-clear, frowning for a split-second before he makes the connections in his head. And then his serious attitude seems to lift, especially at the question. "I'll answer to either," he says, easily, hip cocked to one side as he slots his grapple gun back into its holster. The cooling air of night begins to descend upon them, and the red of his cape flutters in the wind as it picks up.

    "I'd say thanks for the assist, but we both know you did the bulk of the heavy lifting here." It's a joke, meant to ease any potential tension Tim may have caused in his prior behavior, because he's aware he can be... well, brusque?

    That's a word for it. No-nonsense, maybe. At least none of his trademark sarcasm has come into play. "It's not far to the nearest stop, these people need to walk down to it. The trains have all stopped," he says, gaze faraway as his head turns to consider the length of tracks between there and here. He looks conflicted for a moment, before turning to Superboy again.

    The mask helps, but there's also a big difference between Tim Drake and Red Robin. For one the voice is just slightly different, modulated by some sort of technology that subtly changes the pitch and tone. That helps, but it's the entire demeanor that has changed. Tim Drake is a sheltered kid who doesn't have a violent bone in his body, a good kid who is just trying to get through life without causing waves. He's the least-dramatic of the Waynes, hardly ever appearing in society news.

    That is not who is standing in front of Superboy. Red Robin doesn't choose violence but in Gotham there's often little choice to be made; he's seen the widest range of human behavior any one person can, from the good to the terribly, terribly bad. The set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow is all different.

    But the hair's the same. And who else but the Waynes, in Gotham, would have the funds to back an enterprise like the Bats?

Jon Kent has posed:
Clasping his hands behind his back outside of his cape, Superboy gives Red Robin the time to put his gear away and get himself into a mindset of comfort. They just quickly moved from one stage -- the ground below -- to a new one -- the tracks. People need time to nest, sink into their surroundings. He learned this from, of all sources, a hologram of a long-dead alien.

Being confronted head-on like this by Superboy isn't altogether too different from being in front of Jon, save for less clumsiness, maybe a bit more pride. But the Kryptonian vibe is the same. The warmth is the same. The absolute and utter lack of pretense and arrogance is the same. Jon, the valorous.

"We all do what we're...what we're called to do, right?" Jon-El asks, his tone deep and rich, like his father's, though perhaps a note or two more gentle. "What matters is the giving, the service." He steps once or twice to the left, hands still clasped behind his back, head tipping to one side as he considers Red Robin. There is an electric and palpable shifting of the vibe as Superboy watches the Gothamite with no judgement, no superiority. Jon, the compassionate.

"We don't see your family here, in Metropolis, very often," Superboy notes smoothly, peacefully. He's not at all calling Red Robin out. Jon, the diplomat.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Standing where he is, Tim has a good view of the nearest train car, where people are now beginning to gather themselves up in preparation for exiting. He's not sure if Red Robin is who they want to see when they do so, but he stands by, directing them down the tracks even so.

    Some are scared. Some just upset, unsettled. Natural reactions to having just been in a serious crash, even one they walk away relatively unscathed from. But having Superboy there, nearby, seems to brighten some of them. They go from crying or frowning to tentative or eager smiles, and Tim watches it all happen.

    "You know in Gotham, half the time the people see us and run screaming in the other direction," he says. His lips purse dourly, only for his expression to crack a moment later. "Kidding. Mostly they just do that to Batman." A brief pause. "...And Red Hood."

    He puts his hands on his hips as the crowd from the trains begin to thin. "Seems only fair for us to keep out of your hair." One shoulder bumps upwards in a half-shrug. "But I happened to be in the neighborhood," he explains. "Who would I be if I didn't stop and help?"

    One of the people slowly walking down the tracks, an older gentleman, stumbles and nearly falls. But Red Robin steps in, catching him by the arm gently and helping him to straighten back up, before showing him on the way.

    A few moments after, he looks back over to Superboy. "Maybe we can just keep this between you and me... and the half-dozen or so journalists down there," he notes with a faint grimace. They're close to the Daily Planet's headquarters, he shouldn't be surprised.

    "Well, guess the bat's out of the bag."

Jon Kent has posed:
A smile blooms over Superboy's features at Red Robin's joke. "I think you're poking fun. I don't believe they run from you."

When Red Robin helps the older man, Superboy says, "Be right back." Then he places his arms around the man. "Hold on, sir," he offers. "I'm going to get you down to the ground." Superboy lifts up slowly and gently into the air.

"Oh this is something else," the man exclaims, even laughing a little bit.

The young half-Kryptonian descends to the ground below to turn his passenger over to medical authorities on the ground. "Thanks, Superboy," one of the scene commanders says. "You want some water?" He points to the coolers and coolers and coolers full of ice and water. "Sure, thank you very much, sir."

Then he appears floating back up to the tracks to re-join Red Robin, carrying two bottles of water. Landing near the Gothamite, Superboy says, "I traded the old man for them." He, too, can joke. "Want one?" He offers one of the bottles to the costumed Tim.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Maybe they don't run from Red Robin. The Robins themselves aren't meant to be intimidating, they're meant to be distracting, hence all the bright colors in contrast to the Batman's dark and brooding. So he just shakes his head minutely and says, "Only on days that end in Y."

    Okay, so he's still joking.

    While Superboy is gone, Red Robin clears the last train car and returns to where he was waiting, this time facing the other way, just a silhouette and a fluttering cape against the darkening sky. His head turns, and he nods once, no-selling Jon's joke only so that he can say, "Seems like kind of a bad deal," a couple of seconds afterward.

    Then he cracks open the water bottle and downs the entire thing in, like, four big swallows. Superheroics are thirsty work, that's for sure, and he steps in closer as he surveys the ground below. "Thanks," he says after, only slightly out of breath. "Don't think I'm going to be able to make that event tonight after all. Oh well."

    It's probably best they stay on-scene for a little longer anyway, just to make sure everything clears up smoothly. Already most of the ambulances have left for the Metropolis General or other nearby hospitals, now only those that remain are here to check over the groups of people descending from the tracks, so they're further down the street at the train stop.

    In the distance, a bright light can be seen traveling down the tracks. Looks like one of the other trains has been summoned to link up with the cars still on the track, to pull them away.

    "Guess that's my sign to get out of here." He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. "See you around, Superboy." The grapple gun is already in his hand.

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon takes a moment when he re-arrives from below to admire the figure of Red Robin. Not only is he quite handsome, but the costume is striking. Distracting? Is that what the Robins are supposed to be? Maybe in different ways for different people.

In contrast to the Gothamite's gulping of the water, Jon drinks almost demurely from the bottle. He heard the train while it was still out of sight, but there was no reason to hurry. And it was nice to have someone to talk to.

But then grapple gun is back out again! Red Robin is preparing for his departure. Jon looks with fascination at the gear. This manner of moving around is foreign to him, but it's cool as hell and he finds the equipment fascinating. There is a moment of temptation for Jon to examine various pieces of gear in Red Robin's utility belt with his X-ray vision. But that would be...unkind.

"It was nice to meet you. Again." A grin. A mischievous flash in the eyes. "Be safe."

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's a lot of gear packed into that utility belt. More than could be easily listed, that's for sure, and who knows how much of it is lead-lined to minimize any peeking. The Bats are a paranoid lot, to put it simply.

    Red Robin nods once to Superboy and a small smile manages to crack the serious facade. He takes aim with his grapple gun, but doesn't immediately depress the trigger.

    "Say hi to your dad for me. Pretty sure we're due for a dinner sometime soon, yeah?" His head twitches to the side, and his brow furrows like he's raising his eyebrows (but of course they're obscured behind his mask). Then: the hiss-pop of the grapple line shooting out, and a second later Red Robin is whisked away, up into the air towards the nearest tall building.

    But a call comes out through the night sky, after he's already on the run, headed away, "See you later, Superboy!"