15556/Breakups Don't Belong On Patrol

Breakups Don't Belong On Patrol
Date of Scene:	05 August 2023
Location:	Old Gotham - Founders Island
Synopsis:	Tim and Lonnie's relationship might be over but they're not done with each other. Unfortunately, because thinks are really, really awkward.
Cast of Characters:	Lonnie Machin, Tim Drake

---

Lonnie Machin has posed:
There are Warhammer, 40,000 figurines scattered all over the floor, and someone's boffer larping equipment just got knocked over by a body that went careening into it. That would be innocuous, if the boffer shield didn't have a Black Sun painted on it, and all those imperial guardsmen - somebody just stepped on a tank, oops - weren't painted in SS colors.

The workshop table nearby with bomb-making equipment next to all the paints isn't exactly innocent, either.

Right now there's just one guy in here - a greasy, clammy-looking sort in a white tank-top that shows off the ink on his arms he'd normally keep concealed with long sleeves. A grapple line's been tied around his throat and looped over a ceiling rafter.

At the moment, his feet are still on the floor, but even as he's struggling to undo that line, Anarky gives it a little tug.

"Clock's ticking..." Anarky says, "Your life has no value to me, Fascist. But it's mine now. You're going to have to trade me for it. You tell me where your uh - volk - are planning to set off their bombs, and you walk away. This time." He gives another short tug on the line. "...Maybe."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Reports on potential Anarky activity used to come across Red Robin's feed because he was just nosy, wanting to know what Lonnie was up to. Simple curiosity. He'd never disabled it, not because he never thought to do it, but because he thinks it's best he stay aware.

    For entirely different reasons, now.

    Which is how Red Robin knows to show up to this warehouse at this particular time of day, slipping in through a window up near the ceiling. No doubt he'd dropped in from above, as the Bats are rooftop creatures. He pauses there to take in the scene before him, and then with a sigh he drops down to the ground, footfalls near-silent.

    "Let him down, Anarky. The police are already on the way." Another step forward allows Red Robin to slip from the cover of a shadowed corner of the warehouse, one hand resting on his staff, still folded up and magnetically locked to the side of his leg. The other has a shuriken clutched between his fingers, clearly planning to throw it at the line suspending the man on his toes.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "Trade one fascist to another then?" Anarky says. He keeps his hands on the rope. "They'll probably give him a back rub and send him home with a *snack*." He seems to be doing the internal calculus about whether or not to pursue this - but while the guy makes agonized noises, he finally lets him go. As the guy drops to the ground gasping for air, Lonnie casually picks up one of the foam bats and says, "They use this as practice, you know. For moving in organized squads. To attack *protestors*."
    He swings the bat at the guy's head. It's foam, so it won't kill him - but it does hit with an agonizing WHUMP and it knocks the guy out cold. "...But you can still hit someone pretty hard with them." Lonnie tosses the bat, and then casually walks away - though he pauses long enough to step on the guy's Imperial Guard commissar and grind it into plastic debris under the heel of his boot.
    "Go ahead. Waste your time babysitting scum like him. That means I don't have to." He says, as he walks out of the building.

Tim Drake has posed:
    If Red Robin has any sympathy for this guy's WH40K collection, he certainly doesn't show it. Instead, he just approaches the downed man, sitting him up before he takes the time to ziptie him to the table (wrists and ankles). It'll keep him for a little bit, long enough for the cops to arrive. Depending on how clever this guy is.

    His money's on not very.

    "I'm not going to chase after you!" Tim calls out from the warehouse entryway, and true to form he doesn't. Instead he just stands there, arms folded over his chest. Likely he's monitoring the police scanner to track how close the GCPD are to the location. More obviously, he's turned back to look inside the building, at the evidence left behind that he'd much rather be examining than doing this. Standing here, waiting.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "Yeah well, then you won't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do next will you?" Anarky calls. "And that's going to get under your skin. Sooner or later." His bike's parked about a block away. The annoying part being that he has to go get it. Still it's a nice enough night. He even pauses for a moment to take out his phone. He's been embedded in these idiots' discord groups for months now, and really he knows what they're going to do before they do.
    He does give his bike the twice-over for tracers. Just in case.

Tim Drake has posed:
    By all appearances, it doesn't seem like Red Robin has any intentions of following. He stays put in that doorway as Anarky walks away, even as the reflection of flashing red and blue lights appear on the warehouse's facade.

    But before the police arrive, Tim's gone. And soon enough there's the roar of another bike on the street behind Lonnie's, following at a distance. The comms are silent, no indication from Tim why he's pursuing. Beyond what Lonnie's already said: that Tim needs to know where he's going and what he's going to do next.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    In this case what Lonnie's going to do is stop by a shop and buy water and snacks - mostly nutritious stuff like nuts -and then stuff it into a backpack and drive about a mile along the waterfront. He gets off the bike and then drops the bag off to a group of homeless teenagers hanging out under the pier. "Where's Raul?" He asks, before one of them frowns and says, "Hot shot. We managed to bring him around with the narcan you gave us but his parents came and took custody of him while he was in the hospital."
    aAnarky nods, once, and pats the kid on the shoulder, before he gets back on his bike, and drives a little further up the river to an old pier that overlooks the ocean. He stops there, and looks out over the water. He occasionally throws a pebble in.

Tim Drake has posed:
    This is a waste of time. There's no easy way for Tim to follow without Lonnie knowing about it, because Lonnie is too smart for that. So he's obviously not going to do anything suspicious, not with a tail. Still, Red Robin follows for a time, still keeping his distance, and when they arrive at the pier he falls back, observing through binoculars.

    But not forever. Anarky can linger on the pier for however long he wants, but eventually Red Robin's impatience -- and his other responsibilities -- win out. He starts up the engine on his bike and turns it in a slow circle, preparing to leave.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Of course, just as Tim is about to turn and leave, somebody else arrives. Someone dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt. Lonnie holds up a hand at them, briefly - but then there's a murmured sotto voce conversation, and something in yet another backpack changes hands. The young man leaves, and then after a moment, so does Lonnie, headed for his bike to retrieve it and drive off. Which is of course, a choice - go after the guy who gave Lonnie the backpack, or go after Lonnie, who has the backpack?
    Lonnie's the faster-moving of the two, since he's on his motorcycle.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Out of all the things Red Robin would like to be doing right now... well, in for a penny. He sighs and sweeps a hand through his hair, which of course only falls right back across his forehead after, and then he's swinging his bike around.

    The choice is a simple one. The devil you know, and all that. Besides out of the two, Anarky will no doubt be the vastly more dangerous one to deal with, which means that's who Red Robin tails after.

    Same way as before. At a distance, but close enough that his presence is still felt. A silent reminder that Lonnie is being watched.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie drives a long way - and again he parks his bike and hides it carefully - the lab's name is FutureChem, it's a lab installation of a pharmeceuticals company that was bought out about six months ago by Alchemax. The backpack, it turns out, contains a Futurechem security guard's uniform and a security pass for the building. Lonnie changes quickly, walks inside, and walks right up to the guy at the front desk, and signs in - using a name that's not his, of course.
    "Jack's sick tonight." He says, casually, "I'm covering his shift for him so he doesn't get in hot water with the boss. You know how it is right?" He rolls his eyes, and makes a 'pssh' noise and hand gesture, before he walks right by and into the building, completely cool and casual.

Tim Drake has posed:
    When the name Alchemax scrolls across his feed in connection to this lab, Tim is less than pleased. Part of him is tempted to leave Lonnie to it, but the unknowns of the whole situation pull at him too much to do that. He has to know.

    He parks his bike further out and secures it before heading towards the building, finding the blind spots in the outdoor cameras so that he can quickly make his way up to the rooftop via grapple line and a little bit of scrambling. A quick scan confirms no roof sensors, at least, but he still needs a way in.

    This is going to be a rush job. No time for careful planning like Tim favors, but he's learned to be quick on his feet too. The sensor on the roof door is his best bet for jacking into the security system, but with his time constraints it's the hacking equivalent of a smash and grab job: knock out the system long enough for Red Robin to slip inside.

    Now he just has to find Anarky.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    The upper floors of the building are mostly taken up with offices and meeting rooms, just like any other corporate building. One guy's desk has a coffee cup on it that says 'World's <Erlenmeyer Flask> Dad' which makes no sense but is kind of cute.
    But there's a building map on the wall - offices, conference rooms... labs. Biomaterials Lab? Bingo.
    The Biomaterials lab is several floors down, and well-secured. There's even a big sign that says 'NO UNAUTHORIZED ADMITTANCE' which is the best sort of security right? When Lonnie swipes the badge over the door, it makes a green and pleasant 'BEEP' noise and he walks right inside. The lighting in here is cool and green, and in the initial room, there are a lot of computers. Lonnie sticks a flash drive into one, and begins to download data. Terabytes of data. He knows he needs to move quick- because of course he does - so while he's copying the data, he goes into another room, through a decontamination station. THIS room is wall to wall canisters of synthetic amniotic gel. Clumps of cells float in them. It looks almost peaceful.
    Lonnie sits down at the computer station in here, and begins to go through the process of breaking into it. It won't take him long.
    In the other room, his flash drive has copied all the data. It would be pointless to wipe the data here clean - it all gets uploaded to Alchemax's mainframe anyway, which is one of the most secure corporate facilities in the world.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Creeping through unoccupied office buildings is practically a Robin pasttime, so Tim's fairly confident in his ability to remain unseen. Though security will probably notice the way their cameras are dropping out, only to come back online a few moments later. Once Red Robin has passed underneath them and gotten clear.

    Oh well. Best he can do under the circumstances. Normally he'd prefer to grab some video feed from each and set them to loop, but again. This is time sensitive. Every minute he's up here is another minute Lonnie has free range of the labs.

    Once he's made his way down the stairwell, he's confronted with the locked lab door. But this isn't a particularly difficult lock to get around, not when Tim's already hacked into the security system to open a door once.

    The light turns green and the sensor goes BEEP, same as before, and Red Robin enters the lab.

    The first thing he does? Swipe that flash drive, of course.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Aha, he's in. Lonnie tilts his head. "...Bingo." He says. Each tube is being monitored from here. Temperature, nutrient composition, state of the cell cultures.
    Lonnie sits back in the chair, taking a brief moment to study them. "Commodify everything, right? Turn people into a resource, a resource you can control, and elminate the competition - even from nature." He says. "Culture the cells, step one. When there are no more mutants, no more metahumans, no extraterrestrials except the ones you own, you can make your own to order - and sell them to the highest bidder."
    Lonnie turns up the temperature in every tube. "...By morning, these cell cultures will be cooked protein, as useful to Alchemax's Frankensteinian experiments as scrambled eggs."
    He frowns, and then says, without turning around, "I vascillate on my opinion of personal property, Red Robin, but please give me my flash drive back."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim has no intention of stopping what Lonnie's doing here. No, Alchemax is dirty enough that he won't, especially not when he catches sight of the next room and its contents. He stands there in the doorway, a frown on his face illuminated by the glow of the cloning tubes, as he looks out at them.

    Meanwhile he is, of course, cloning Anarky's flash drive. An amusing coincidence in any other situation. He won't get to see what's on it until he can get in front of a closed system, just in case Lonnie has any tricks up his sleeves, because that's just how paranoid Tim is on a daily basis. But he'll have the same information, soon enough.

    The cloning device flashes green to show its work is done, and the flash drive pops out, so Tim underhand tosses it towards Lonnie. "All yours," he says, then turns around to return to the computers.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Oh yes, there will be plenty of tricks, safeguards and what can only be called, to borrow a Cyberpunk term, ICE of every shade from white to black to make attempts by the unwary to access Lonnie's data a living hell - but Tim will be able to get around those. It might even be fun. Lonnie sits back, and then just rolls his eyes. "Fine." He says, before he takes the drive back, and puts it away. "You're being unusually *cooperative* tonight."
    He gestures. "Cell cultures taken from different mutants, metahumans, even extraterrestrial life-forms. Right now they're just cultivating the cell lines for future experiments. Of course, the ultimate end goal is genetic augmentation and custom-tailored metahuman individuals made on demand. Like Project: CADMUS, but on turbo." He spins in his chair. "They have other facilities, of course. Other subsidiaries, in other places. This will only slow them down. See, what people forget is that the ultimate goal of any corporation is fascistic synchronization with those in authority - to maximize profit, control all means of production AND all means of regulating production. The Fascist-Corporate Syndicate-State is Alchemax's ultimate goal."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Because I hope Alchemax goes up in flames," is Tim's ready answer. His arms fold over his chest as he leans his hip against one of the desks, contemplating what he might do to the company's servers while he's here. Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot of things. In the meantime, though, he looks back over his shoulder towards Lonnie, silent throughout the lecture.

    Even after, he's silent. Finally he sighs and slips down into one of the chairs, pulling the keyboard towards himself before he begins to type. "They'll just claim it was their newest subsidiary hiding dangerous experiments from them in the buy-out, you know." He hacks into the server and starts putting a few backdoors in place, ones that he'll be able to use later on should it come to it. Better safe than sorry, in Red Robin's book.

    This process only takes a few moments, gifted as he is, so soon enough he's standing. "We're leaving now. Before security finds us. Come on."

    He gestures towards the door and waits, eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his domino mask as he looks back to Lonnie.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie exhales, and then he says "Well, at least we agree on *that*." He leaves those cell cultures to sous vide, as he gets up, and follows Tim out. He already left his own backdoor into the company mainframe, which he hopes to then use to worm his way into Alchemax's systems, which are tough, even for a world-class expert. He stops at the door, and gestures in an "After You" motion to Tim. Then he looks left and he looks right, checking to make sure the hallway is clear.
    "So." He says, once they're out in the hall, "...Read any good books lately?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    Good. Out they go. Red Robin does of course check the hallway himself before he exits, his cape trailing behind him, and he looks up at the camera that he's temporarily disabled. "So," he echoes, once Lonnie's said it, and then he looks back over his shoulder.

    "We're not here to chit-chat," is his non-answer to that question. He proceeds through the hallway at not-quite a jog, but certainly a fast clip, and it's clear he expects Lonnie to keep up. The camera's power light blinks back on to red mere seconds after he's exited its view, and Tim's fingers tap against the keyboard set into his gauntlet. "Are you done for the night, after this?" he asks, casting a sidelong look Lonnie's way after ducking his head out to check the next hallway for security personnel.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "I'm back to sleeping during the day." Lonnie says, "My plan for tonight was to go grab something to eat and then spend the rest of the night letting the air out of the tires on GCPD police cruisers." He shrugs, "But somehow I think you'll object to that. I can always do that tomorrow." He raises his eyebrows. "It's the little things that make life worth living, you know?" A security guard comes walking by, whistling to himself, because really when does anybody get in here? Lonnie adjusts his cap for optimal hiding his face from the cameras.
    "Why?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Assuming you're only targeting the worst that the GCPD has to offer and not the Commissioner or his officers, right?" Tim asks, though he suspects he may already know the answer. Which may be him assuming the worst of Lonnie in this moment, but also may be just him being overly paranoid, which is not a new trait for Tim.

    He ducks backwards and into a side office as the guard starts to turn the corner, there and gone from Lonnie's side in an instant. And then... uh, well, he doesn't reappear. The office door remains closed. Maybe he found something in there?

    Or maybe he pulled a Robin and went up through the ventilation shaft. Could be either or!

    Except it's definitely that second one. Tim's out on the roof and back down on solid ground at speed, trying to beat Lonnie to his bike to plant a tracker before he leaves.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Once he gets outside - the way he came in, right by the security guard, who is so freaking fired. He immediately spots the tracker on the bike... and then the second tracker hidden under the fender. He checks it over for a third tracker, and then he studies the one in his hand, and he sighs - before he just shrugs. "It just shows me you care, you know." He sticks it to his dash and drives off. And makes sure to get dinner at a place Tim really likes. OMG that vegetarian peanut ramen...
    ...What?
    While he's eating, he reviews his latest YouTube video, where Harvey Bullock opens a thermos he thought was full of coffee and a spring snake pops out at him. "...Corny." He admits. "But funny."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Did Tim leave a third tracker, somewhere even more hidden? Maybe, maybe not. It doesn't really matter because Lonnie decides to keep the first one attached, which works just fine for Tim.

    And yes, he does follow. But when he makes his appearance in the restaurant it's as Tim Drake, not Red Robin. And he doesn't approach Lonnie, just takes a seat elsewhere. He won't approach this time around. In fact it doesn't even look like he's watching, which may or may not mean he isn't. But either way, it seems like his hounding of Lonnie is over for the night.

    Maybe he just wanted some ramen?

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie some of his noodles in silence - and then he stops with them halfway to his mouth, and his brow furrows. He sets it back down, and wipes some of the splash on his fingers with a napkin, and then he flags down the waiter, and leans in to whisper to him. "Hey. Did you know it's Tim's birthday?" Well, Tim's birthday was two weeks ago. So...
    A moment later, the waiters come out with a mochi ice cream. It has a little candle in it.
    "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~"

Lonnie checks his phone.

Tim Drake has posed:
    To be perfectly honest, Tim mostly forgot his birthday this year. At around 11:30 PM that night he ordered his traditional pizza (ham, onions, and artichoke hearts, one of the few times he breaks his vegetarian diet) while out on patrol and ate it on a rooftop. And that's fine, he doesn't need anything more than that. He was busy with upcoming finals, anyway.

    So the mochi ice cream catches him by surprise. He barely manages to catch himself before he rolls his eyes, but he does crank up the megawatt Wayne social butterfly smile, gets out a surprisingly polite, "Thank you," and then he eats the damn ice cream. Of course he does.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie furrows his brow and says, "...Fine, if that's how it's going to be." To himself. He picks up his soup and his drink, once Tim's eaten his ice cream, and he sits on the other side of the booth. Just slides himself in.
    "I decided maybe I didn't want to eat dinner by myself." He says, before he goes back to eating, in silence. After a bit he says, "...So. You look good." Then he mutters, sotto voce, "A lot better than the Riddler, at any rate. Does Arkham Asylum have a plastic surgeon on retainer?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim blows out a breath as Lonnie joins him, uninvited. It's an angry breath, that's for sure, and for a little bit all Tim is doing is glowering down at his ramen. But he can't bring himself to glower at Lonnie directly, so that's all he does.

    He eats his ramen in silence, slurping it up with more rapidity than he was before, and as he chews he finally looks up and over. "I'm sure they have a very impressive roster of medical professionals," he says, and then sets his chopsticks down so he can flag down a waiter. "Can I get this to go?" he asks.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie sits back, and says, "You can do what you want," He says, "But before I go I'd like the answer to one question. One question. That's it." He says. "I won't even ask it right away, I'll wait until you say it's all right, and THEN I'll ask it." He balances a chopstick on the end of a finger, as he fixes Tim with an iron-hard stare. So maybe he's a little angry too.
    A little hurt.
    "You can even wait to give me an answer, before you think it through. There's no pre-approved list of reactions here."
    "Also, congratulations. I left you a card but with all the chaos that night I don't know if it actually found its way to you."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The waiter takes the food away to box it up, which leaves Tim nothing to do but sit and wait. He stares down at his hands for a little bit. "No, I got your card," he confirms, and then bites off a hard, "Thanks," because he was raised to be polite and some things are hard to shake.

    He looks across the table again at Lonnie, contemplating this whole question thing, and then he sighs. "I don't want to do this. We didn't work out and that's just how it is, how it's going to be. No answer is going to change that, Lonnie, so we might as well not try." The waiter comes back with his food and while Tim picks the bag up he doesn't yet get up to leave, clearly giving Lonnie a chance to reply before doing so.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie raises an eyebrow. "I didn't say I was trying to get back together with you. Whatever I feel about you, it's complicated, and I'm still sorting it out. THAT was a moment of ego on your part, escaping around the edges. You have one. Enjoy it, it's part of being a human being." He leans back, hands on the table.
    "Like I said, I have a question for you. "You're angry at me. You're angry at a whole bunch of people you think let you down. Fine. Be mad. Be big mad. But Tim-" He says, before he leans forward, slowly. "...When are you going to own that being an adult means that you can be mad as hell at somebody and still care?" He takes out his wallet and throws down money to pay for both meals. "Anger is transitory, unless you hang onto it. Love is eternal, unless you smother it."
    Then he gets up and walks out, leaving his ramen half-eaten.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim sits there for a little while afterward, maybe stewing in it, maybe eating Lonnie's ramen. Either way he can't dawdle for long, as he's already spent half the night away when he should be on patrol.

    So eventually he heads out, leftovers in tow, to get to the nearest bolthole and suit back up. What he thinks of Lonnie's question is unreadable on his face and remains that way for the rest of the night.