3348/Investigating the Undercity

Investigating the Undercity
Date of Scene:	13 September 2020
Location:	Gotham's Undercity, beneath Old Gotham
Synopsis:	A trip to the Undercity. It does not end how you'd think
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Rose Wilson

---

Tim Drake has posed:
The Undercity is probably saner to poke around in during the day, even if it's just as pitch black below the streets and crumbling buildings of Old Gotham day or night. Except the last time Red Robin had been down there, he had run into some undead ninja owls, and he's not too keen on going out and about Gotham in the costume by day when he can help it. Armor is a guy's best friend when you might get stabbed a few ways from Sunday, so he actually volunteers for the Old Gotham patrol route for tonight, which will take him and Ravager below the surface streets into the dark, decaying time capsule of Gotham of yesteryear.

The first portion of the patrol, on the streets above, had gone without incident. Truth to tell, Old Gotham is rarely an issue for the Bats since No Man's Land had been resolved... simply put, even goons want more amenities than the area can offer. While some of the buildings still have life, many are literally falling onto themselves, condemned or should-be condemned. And beyond the residents thereof, some of the homeless of Gotham who find the area to largely be safer if not less functional, and some stray animals...

Red Robin holds up the cellar door on the back side of one of the crumbling houses in the old Dutch district to let Ravager step down the partially broken steps into the building beneath. Once she's down, he follows into the darkness, flipping on a dim red light to scan the basement, verifying it's empty save a few empty wooden shelves and a lot of dust.

"Here," he pulls out a mate to his own domino mask out, offering it to her after fiddling with it a moment. "Turned off most of the distracting stuff, but the nightvision should work fine." What he means by 'distracting stuff' he doesn't clarify. "Bringing lights down there just causes more problems than solutions."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Once down into the little hole, she pulls one sword glancing around and tilting her head so that she can try and listen to see if anyone is coming. When Tim comes down as well she glances at him, then down at the mask in his hand.

"Lights down here would be a beacon to anyone else down here to where you are." She agrees, taking the mask from him before she goes about getting it positioned on her face. What distracting stuff he might be talking about is an issue for another time.

Tim Drake has posed:
Flashing her a quick grin as soon as the mask is situated, he leads the way over towards a slightly rusted grate in the basement floor, pulling it up and sliding it aside. "Gonna leave it off. Unlikely anyone comes down here, and last time... well, lets just say I was not keen on having to do extra steps to get the hell up and out." His voice is quiet as he gives her the rundown. "We'll drop down into an old tailor's shop. It can be a bit off-putting to see the dummies." He takes a moment to lightly brush the fingertips of his gauntleted hand across her shoulder. "Honestly, it's all a bit... off. But we'll be fine. Just be cautious and keep your eyes open."

Then he steps down into the open hole, falling feet-first a story and a little more, landing lightly on the ground of the old tailoring shop with a quiet thud. He steps out of the way so she can follow, his nightvision already kicked in, the room coming to view in shades of grey.

Rose Wilson has posed:
There's an almost fierce smile that crosses her face when he mentions the dummies that are going to be inside the tailor shop, but she doesn't say anything. There might be a mental note to not try and cut down any helpless dummies as she lands.

There's one last look back, marking the way out in case things turn pear shaped. Then she glances down to make sure that Tim is out of the way before she drops down as well, knees bending when she lands to absorb some of the impact, her second sword drawn as soon as she's inside the shop.

Tim Drake has posed:
The room they've dropped into is definitely the back half of an old tailors shop, with a trio of dress dummies on posts in the back, and a long table to one side. Tim nods at Rose as she stands and draws her other sword, already pulling one of his extendable staves from the side of his utility belt, whipping it out to full length with an absent flick of the wrist. Being armed down here is definitely a good idea. He gestures towards the door, which hangs open mostly due to not really being on the hinges fully anymore, and with a motion for her to follow, silently slips over towards it and through.

The front of the shop is mostly just an abandoned counter and a collection of more dummies, some still with rat and moth-eaten dresses and shirts from the mid 1800s. Like a ghost clad in black and red, he slips through the shop to the front door, opening it slowly into the understreet below, looking out and then stepping out onto the street, waiting for Rose to follow before shutting the door behind them.

The cobbled streets stretch both left and right into darkness too far for the nightvision to see. There are other buildings on either side, and alleyways breaking off between some of the buildings.

Rose Wilson has posed:
There is an idle twirl of one blade as she looks around the room she finds herself in, taking in each of the walls, the dummies, the exits visible. When he starts to head off she starts to follow, moving slowly enough that she can look around her as well.

Once she's through the door she stops to look up and down the cobbled streets. If there is any indication that the darkness, the rot, any of it affects her it is the tightening of her hands around the hilts of her swords, "Which way?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim gestures down towards the left. "Down that way, about three blocks? Tunnel collapse." He gestures the opposite way. "Usually, patrol heads this way. A few blocks and there's the cross, which is an old fountain in the middle of a three-road crossway. From there, there's a fair chunk of undercity that spreads out in most directions. It's a bit of a rabbits warren down here. Some of the buildings have collapsed, but others are in good shape, like the tailor shop. There are a few other ways in and out of the undercity, too, which are good to know, and I'll show you. In some places, the underground just ends, and in others... most others... its collapsed, either incidentally or on purpose from building above." He frowns. "We should probably head for the cross. There's a section collapsed off the main throughway that might be promising for finding more to the underground."

Rose Wilson has posed:
When Tim gestures to the left she glances that way, listening to what he's saying before she then looks towards the right, "And has anyone gone this way?"

It's clear that she's trying to consider if they should go and re-run through all the territory the Bats have explored already, or try branching out in entirely new directions.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Mm. Yes, but..." he frowns. "It's been awhile. Since there isn't much that way, and really, especially solo, we don't spend a lot of time down here on patrol. Comms don't work," he lifts his left wrist, where his gauntlet computer is, "systems can't connect to the mains. If something happens down here, we're on our own. No help coming." He grimaces. "So we tend to do the loop... in, to the cross, and then out again on the other side. I can't remember the last time we went down to the collapsed area on that end."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Wouldn't you think that'd be the best place to hide from you, then?" Rose shakes her head at him, a hand reaching out to settle on his shoulder, "If you are all doing predictable loops, they don't even have to be //deep// in."

Which seems to solve everything as far as she's concerned. Her hand drops from his shoulder, and she rearranges her swords before she turns to head down to the right instead of the left.

Tim Drake has posed:
Sighing almost inaudibly, Tim lopes after her. He can't argue with the logic, even if his mind is already turning to the possibility of being jumped by Talons. In fact, while he's normally observant as it is, as they quietly make their way down the understreet he's almost jumpy, peering down every alleyway, checking behind them frequently. In fairness, the last time he was down here, he nearly got skewered through the back. Bastards move silently.

The crumbling facades of the various buildings are in fairly good shape, at first, but the further towards the collapse the more dilapidated they become. Chunks of dirt and rock are scattered across the street from either above or from the crumbling buildings.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It's creepy. If it weren't for the built in nightvision on the borrowed mask, Rose would probably have turned around and gone back. Seeing in the dark is not a talent that she shares with some people, so she'd be flying blind. As it were.

Not having the bad experiences down here that Tim does doesn't seem to prevent her from checking the dark alleys as they pass them either. The going is slow, and it slows down even more when they start getting to the buildings that are starting to crumble.

Tim Drake has posed:
A flicker of light grey, unexpected, in the periphery of his vision inside one of the buildings has Tim wheeling, bringing his staff up between him and Rose and the building. Focusing, he sees that what spooked him was just a curtain on the upper floor moving in the wind.

Wait. Wind?

He narrows his eyes slightly behind his mask. The building is not in great condition... falling apart, to be honest. But curious and curiouser what is making the curtain move on the second floor... He motions towards it to draw her attention to the movement.

Rose Wilson has posed:
The fact he stops has her stopping, and she lifts her swords upwards to wait to see if anything is coming. Nothing comes, and she waits, looking around and using not just her eyes, but her ears. She does not have super hearing, however, so it's probably not going to help her pick up if it's something like the Talon's out there. Or anything small, like rats.

Then she starts to move, sliding her feet across the surface slowly so that she's not stepping on anything that'll make noise, and if there's something in front of them she doesn't kick it hard, either. The building in question, with the spooky curtain, is her clear target.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim bites back an admonition to take care. Rose isn't new at this. Shifting his staff to one hand, he starts moving towards the building as well, his free hand pulling out the red thief's light he had used in the basement earlier, though not turning it on yet. The door to the front of the building is broken, but still on hinges. The alleyway alongside it might lead to a back way in. Tim gestures towards the alley and then makes a 'which way?' sort of gesture. He's not willing to split up, apparently, but he's at least letting her pick front door or checking around back.

Rose Wilson has posed:
One sword is slid away, and Rose reaches for the door to brace it before she tries to think thin, and slide through it without opening it or risking knocking it loose from the hinges.

Reality? It would probably have been easier to find another entrance, but then there would be wasted time. Once she's made it through the door she waits for Tim to come in behind her, ready in case there is anything or anyone else inside with them.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim is surprisingly graceful and adept at sliding through the broken door behind her, almost as if he's done this sort of thing before. He probably has. The room they are in is clearly a small foyer of a crumbling home. Broken stairs lead upwards, beside them leads into more of the main floor. A opening to their left enters into a parlor, with rat-eaten antique furniture and a tall, somewhat rotted closed cabinet with leaded glass doors, one of the panes shattered, bits of glass scattered on the floor in front of it. To the right, the opening leads into what is likely a dining area given the large wooden table with carved legs, surrounded by half a dozen chairs to match, though only perhaps half of them seem like they might be functional still.

Tim pulls Rose to him, murmuring directly in her ear, "those stairs don't look like they'll hold any weight. Be careful."

Rose Wilson has posed:
There's a quick flash of a smile, one that oozes more confidence then she should rightly have given the situation. The sort of self-assuredness that either //works// or gets someone hurt or killed.

Then Rose starts towards the stairs, sliding her foot across the first step to see which areas are the weakest, and if she can find a strong one. It might be that she goes from corner to corner, if she can even get up the stairs.

Tim Drake has posed:
Watching her slowly make her way up, Red Robin's lips curl in a pleased grin. Danger or not, there's something satisfying about getting passed obstacles like this. He keeps a mental track of where she finds 'safe' steps, and once she reaches the top of the stairs, which is into a short hallway with a trio of doors, though the central one at the far end is most likely to be their target; Tim takes the stairs after her, slowly and surely avoiding the broken and weaker places and keeping to the few sturdy areas left. Once he's joined her at the top, he steals a quick kiss, then observes their surroundings. The nightvision (really, more infrared vision than truly night vision down here, as there is no light to expand on) lacks in detail, so while he can see there are framed paintings along the upper hall walls (though one had long since fallen, the frame shattered on two sides), he can't discern what they are of. He doesn't see any body heat through the thin walls save Rose's and a few tiny dots that are most likely rats or mice.

But Talons don't give off heat, something he's already learned the hard way.

He frowns, his expression returning to its usual drawn seriousness, and then takes point this time. Her mask only feeds her the IR and nightvision. His has a lot more data coming in, even if it can't connect to the main bat computers for more direct analysis, his wrist computer is powerful enough on its own for many tasks. He begins making his way down the short hall, along the loose railing that separates the hall from the stairway.

And when he gets about two-thirds of the way to the door, the floor beneath him gives a loud creeeeeak. Then a sudden explosive CRACK, and the wooden slats crumble beneath him.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Careful..." Rose murmurs quietly to him before he starts to move off down the hallway. She doesn't have any kind of objection to him going first, and she follows him at a distance that should be reasonably safe.

And it might be too far when the floor explodes and crumble beneath him. She moves forward quickly, a hand reaching out to try and grab for his arm in an effort to keep him from falling down the newly appearing hole.

Tim Drake has posed:
Falling with style is one of the first lessons any Bat learns. As the ground breaks beneath him, Red Robin instinctively flips his staff sideways to catch the edges of the hole, which it does with a clack-crack!, leaving him hanging over the dining room below them. He looks back and up at Rose, his expression rueful, though he doesn't move for a few seconds, listening to see if the noise attracted anything. When the silence remains, he declines her hand (mostly to not risk pulling her in with him) and swings slightly, then kips up out of the hole onto the other side of it, steadying himself as he lands and waiting to hear if anything else beneath him now creaks or cracks.

"That was an adventure," he mutters, trying to muster up some cheer in the grey gloom. The edges of the hallway are still intact, at least, so she can join him on the other side if she's cautious, which she generally is.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Strangely, the declining of the hand is greeted with the briefest of teeth grinding. Does she know that it is probably the wise course of action from his perspective? Of course. But for some reason, it still makes her jaw clench and her shoulders tense.

"Yeah. Adventure." Rose agrees as she takes a step back from the hole. There is a slow look around the hallway, noting the edges that are still intact, considering the strength of the remaining floor, the width of the hole, the solidness of the walls. Then she steps back a few more steps before starting forward, skipping the caution it seems.

It's just a few running steps before she leaps from the edge, using the wall half way to plant one foot on and push off from towards the other side of the hole. Reality is, it looks more impressive than it really is. But she lands on the other side of the hole, giving him a brief look before she takes the lead and heads down the hall in front of him.

Tim Drake has posed:
Even if her choice of crossing wasn't necessarily the wisest, Tim can't help but grin fiercely for a moment. His eyes may be hidden behind his mask, but behind it they glint with a wild sort of happiness for a moment. Setting aside the danger... or perhaps not... perhaps that contributes... this is the sort of thing that makes him feel more than alive. He follows her towards the door at the end of the hallway, though by now he's quite sure there's nothing too dangerous inside-- the noise should have brought it out if there were. They'll still check, because they should. His booted feet are surprisingly(?) quiet as he pads along the wooden floors behind her, more cautious in his steps now that he had been prior. He does outweigh her a bit.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Once they reach the door at the end of the hallway she stops, waiting for him to go first maybe?

No. She still goes first, but she did give it a split second, head cocked slightly to the side so that she can listen to see if she hears anything on the other side. Then she starts to push the door open slowly, braced for whatever might be inside.

Tim Drake has posed:
The door opens with a soft creak that sounds louder than it is in the dark silence of the undercity. Inside the room is a time capsule: a bedroom perfectly preserved, with only a layer of dust to show testament to time's ravages. The wooden floor is covered with a large rug, dark in color (in the grey vision of the night vision, colors and patterns are far more difficult to discern). Hand-carved night stands flank a bed, neatly made still with light colored bedding, with a fancy hand-carved headboard and footboard. There is an armoire to the side of the room that seems to match them all, and a writing desk. Oil lamps, long empty and long shuttered, sit on the desk and one of the nightstands. A antique chair, upholstered in a light color, sits by the window, which are curtained with light gauzy curtains.

Tim peers over Rose's shoulder through the door, looking for vestiges of body heat or anything that might indicate why the curtains seemed to be moving. Only small specks appear in his vision of greens and reds, as a family of dormice skitter into hiding away from the large intruders. He lets out a breath he hadn't quite realized he had been holding... no Talons. There were no undead here.

He moves into the room quietly, however, inspecting the place.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Do undead things give off heat signatures? An esoteric conversation for another time, maybe.

Rose moves through the door and into the room, looking around it very slowly. Then she moves towards the object in the room that she figures would be a good hiding place, the armoire, checking for any signs that the layer of dust in the room has been disturbed before she reaches for it to open it.

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim's gloved hands slide over the carvings on the footboard, allowing his fingers to see more detail than his mask does. Intricate vines and roses play out beneath his fingertips, and he has a somewhat curious and appreciative half-smile on his lips as Rose opens the armoire.

Inside the standing closet, several dresses and undergarments from a bygone era hang. The drawers inside hold stays and corsetry, and while some of them are chewed on by vermin through the years many of them are still in good condition, one or two even pristine.

"The mice." He's kneeling now, by the window and the curtains. He had been hunting for moving air, but instead finds the bottoms of the curtains are ragged and chewed on. He feels mildly annoyed with himself for his nerves getting the better of him, though the only sign of that is his lips twisting with irritation. "Beautiful room, though," he glances around, standing back up.

Rose Wilson has posed:
The items of clothing are pulled from the wardrobe, and she holds them up to herself, "Mice?"

The announcement catches her off guard, distracting her from looking at the clothes. She glances over towards him, then to the curtains before understanding dawns on her, "You think they are the ones that were moving the curtains then?"

Tim Drake has posed:
"No air movement in here. Room is empty of any other signs of life... living or not." Tim moves over towards her, shrugging slightly. "When in absence of any other explanation, the simplest one is the truth, usually. The curtains have been chewed on and have had fibers pulled from them, likely for nesting materials." He opens his mouth to go into a further explanation, but stops himself. She doesn't need the long story and he doesn't need to ramble. He leans against the edge of the footboard, grinning with amusement at her holding the dresses up to herself. "This is where I tell you that they'd look gorgeous on you, but I'm not sure if that counts as I think anything does, really."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Occam's Razor."

Rose glances down at the dress in her hand, shifting very slightly to turn a bit, showing it off before she reaches up to carefully hang it back up. "Why do you think it doesn't count?"

It's very curiously asked, but she doesn't look in his direction as she starts to go through the drawers, pulling them open and the objects out.

Tim Drake has posed:
He chuckles quietly, glancing out the window into the darkness. Now he is the reason the curtains are moving, but the streets are empty, as usual. "I'm biased," he answers honestly. He moves back over beside her, peering over her shoulder into the armoire and the drawers for a couple of moments in curiosity, then moving over towards the desk. Bats are nosy. He opens the drawers and finds an empty, dried out inkwell and some old pens with rusted nibs, but nothing else of interest. "I can't believe in some ways people just abandoned everything like this," he murmurs. "Some of the places down here are stripped bare, but so many of them are like this... just like they were caught in amber."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"They left quickly..." Rose sets down things after she examines them, pushing the drawers and doors closed after everything is back where she found it. Then she moves towards the nightstands, pulling drawers open there as well. "Like something so terrible happened they couldn't take things..."

Tim Drake has posed:
He nods grimly. "There were a lot of things that caused upheaval in Gotham in the 1700s and 1800s. Any of them could have caused it." The nightstands are mostly empty, except for an old hairbrush and what looks like a large, adult person sized sack made of rough cloth.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"I wonder if those people are still around." Not //those// people, probably. But their families. She picks up the brush, turning it around in her hand before setting it back down. Then she picks up the sack with a frown, "Weird."

It's a scientific opinion, Tim. Then she sits down on the bed, glancing in his direction, "Was your family here then?"

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim actually stifles a bit of a laugh at the sack. "Whoever's room this was, she wasn't married but she had someone her parents approved of," he noted dryly. "Back then, dating //was// weird... but you could effectively have 'sleepovers' with your not-yet-lover with the guy literally ah..." he gestures to the sack, "stitched into a bag like this so he could be on his best behavior." He looks amused.

Her question gets a nod. "Yeah. They were here from the beginning. Possibly the original Drake house might be somewhere around here... a lot of the old families originally settled on this island, which is why it's called Founders Isle."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"That's....stupid." Rose decides, shoving the sack back into the drawer before she shoves it closed, then wipes her hands off on her pants. Then she glances in his direction, again, "So you don't know where the family home would be around here?"

Tim Drake has posed:
He sits down on the bed beside her and muses a bit. "Not specifically. I could probably do some research and get an idea for it, if I wanted to... but the manor out..." he grimaces. "Ah, well. Its not there anymore, but its where my family had been for generations." He looks a little uncomfortable for a bit. This is generally something he tries and push out of his mind. He grins at her declaration regarding the sack. "And yes. It is stupid."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Your home isn't there any more?" Rose raises a brow very faintly as she watches him, then she shakes her head slowly, "I'm sorry."

Can she really feel sorry? Maybe not, but she's at least recognized that this is the appropriate place to say those things.

Tim Drake has posed:
"No. Burned down a couple years ago." Tim's voice is a bit flat, as if he's distanced himself from it. Rose wasn't around as much right after his father had died, but in the immediate aftermath he had gone to a fairly dark place-- one that Conner had effectively kept him from falling too deeply into. "Someone thought it would be funny to burn it down around Dad. He wasn't able to get out."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Someone?"

Clearly, Rose assumes that the someone is someone that he knows of.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Officially? Terrible accident." Tim shrugs. "Pretty sure it wasn't. Pretty sure it was Black Mask." He shakes his head. "Can't prove it, can't do anything about it now. Grounds are still there. In theory, I'll eventually rebuild it and live happily ever after." There's a hint of bitterness to his tone at that. "Someday."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Aren't you happy now?" This is starting to get into dangerous territory. Feelings. A territory that Rose is not always comfortable with. And it shows when she suddenly gets to her feet, moving for the door like she's running away from the topic.

"Why do you need to prove it? Just punish him anyways if you're sure."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim rises to his feet as well. They should get moving. This is the longest time he's spent in the underground on purpose as long as he can remember. And while he's a lot less reticent about topics that brush on feelings, this one is one he that has him as uncomfortable as Rose seems to be. But her first question? He gives an answer that's honest and dangerous all at the same time. "With you? Yes."

Her second question, though... he simply doesn't respond at all. He doesn't trust his response to that. It's a question that he's asked himself many times, and it's come right up to the edge of his own core beliefs over and over. If anything could tempt him to break his own code, it's that. So instead, he refuses for the moment to acknowledge his deeper thoughts on it.,

Rose Wilson has posed:
There's little doubt that she heard his answer, but that doesn't stop her from heading out the door and back into the hallway. Whatever her own thoughts are on the entire thing she keeps locked down. Probably not even acknowledging them herself.