3437/Court of Owls: Red Dead Redemption Two - Red Robin

Court of Owls: Red Dead Redemption Two - Red Robin
Date of Scene:	19 September 2020
Location:	Drake Estate grounds, Bristol, Gotham, NJ
Synopsis:	A nice day is interrupted by talons, black magic, and death.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Rose Wilson

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Tim Drake has posed:
The red sports car Tim drives (and is a secret Batmobile, who knew?) pulls into the long, winding drive one driveway before stately Wayne Manor in Bristol. The grounds of the old Drake estate are fairly well maintained, in the sense that the grass has been kept mowed and the various beds have been weeded and mulched, but other than that, the place gives an abandoned feel, not the least of the reason for that being the empty, hollow foundation of what used to be Drake manor as Tim pulls his car up around the loop and parks out front of what used to be the front door.

The charred remnants of the manor have long since been cleared away for safety and perhaps in hopes of rebuilding, but the evidence of what transpired still remains in the soot-stained foundation and a few cracked pieces of driveway, landing, and front porch that hadn't been repaired or replaced. He pops the locks on the car open so Rose can get out, and once they are both out of the car he clicks the automatic locks and tucks his keys back in his pocket.

"So this is my house," he says dryly. "It's not much to look at, but I'll show you around the grounds, at least." He's dressed a little better than he usually does around the theater, in navy slacks and a light blue dress shirt and blue patterned tie, though the tie is loosened and his shoes, while they match his outfit, are meant for walking in more than simply being dress shoes. The plan is to poke around here a bit before heading over to Wayne manor for dinner with Bruce (and Alfred).

Rose Wilson has posed:
Dressing "up" is strictly speaking a thing she avoids, and today isn't really any different. Shoes, jeans, a t-shirt that isn't advertizing anything. But certainly not the sort of look of someone that should be hanging around anyone in a dress shirt and tie.

"Why haven't you rebuilt?" Rose wonders, standing outside the car and letting her attention stray across the ruined foundation of Drake Manor.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Haven't felt up to it." Tim kicks a loose stone, which skitters across the driveway. "It's a lot of work just deciding if I rebuild it like it was before, or do I make it different? Do I have the right to make that decision?" He shrugs. His tone is a bit flat, as if it's a large amount of thought he doesn't have the emotional capacity to handle... which it is, and he doesn't. "Do I modernize it? If I do, do I keep the trappings of when it was originally built in the 1700s, all the wood and paneling and the..." he shakes his head slightly. "Just... don't feel like it. Rebuilding the theater was enough for now."

The theater he didn't have any sort of attachment to.

"Come on around, we'll head to the back of the grounds. It's nicer there." He offers a hand to her, to start leading her back around the foundations. In the distance there are shade trees and what looks like a large tiled patio that would have been not far off the back of the house.

Rose Wilson has posed:
There's a flicker of a frown at Tim's answer, but she doesn't push him about it. Not right away. Instead she starts to follow him around towards the back of the foundations to where the patio is.

It's not until they are there that she shakes her head, turning to instead face him, "Why wouldn't you have the right to make the decision? It is //your// house. Is there any other Drake out there that'll have any right to provide an opinion?"

Tim Drake has posed:
"Not living, no," Tim replies after considering what she asked as the step onto the stone and tile patio. The areas nearest the house show some buckling and cracking of the tiles from the heat of the fire, but its otherwise in pristine condition, with white tile and stonework in a pattern of ever-linking circles. "That's part of the problem. I almost want someone else to at least... talk to about it. This house stood for years, sheltered generations of my family. If I rebuild, that's what I want the new one to do too. What if I miss something, or do something wrong?" He frowns a bit. "I know I'm smart but I'm not infallible."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"You've got people to talk to about it, but the choices are yours. It is your home. Your land." Rose crosses her arms over her chest, head tilting a bit as she watches him. "No one is infallible."

And it might be the voice of understanding, or reason, or just experience. But she shifts her eye towards the burnt ruin for a moment, then back to him, "You can't let the past paralyze you for the future."

Tim Drake has posed:
He shoots her a wry smile. "Fair enough," he replies lightly. He moves over to her and gives her a light kiss, then glances towards the wooded area. "Want to take a walk before we head to dinner?" If she declines he doesn't seem too put out, but if she agrees, they'll start down the cobbled path towards the scattered trees, leaves just beginning to change colors.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Sure." Rose replies, brushing off the agreement about how she's right with a shrug. That was what he meant, right?

Right.

When he starts to head towards the trees she follows, her hands tucking into her pockets. "I think you should rebuild it, though. For what it's worth."

Tim Drake has posed:
He probably did mean she was right. Tim grins a bit as they come into the shade of the trees on the path, then up to a small fork, one side leading towards a stone wall and a wrought-iron gate. He glances down towards the gate, then shrugs a bit and turns towards it, propping the gate open with a creak on the cobbled path. He slips inside the walled off area, letting Rose follow but leaving the gate open behind them.

Headstones and mausoleums stretch out a fair bit, though there is also a good amount of empty space. A few angelic statues are scattered throughout the small family cemetery. It's been maintained, as the grass among the stones is cut short, and there are no vines or weeds breaking through the pathways or crawling up any of the markers.

One pair of the markers, fairly close to the entrance, have flowers on them, though they seem to be a little bit old and in need of replacement. Tim actually winces at that. He should have grabbed something before coming out, but he hadn't actually planned on this. He looks down to his feet at the gate, and then frowns a little. The decorative stonework has been worked into a pair of linked circles, dark stone on the lighter. It had been like this as long as he could remember, but he was just noticing it now.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It's clear that Rose is aware that this is more for Tim than her, so after they step into the old family cemetary she just remains quiet.

The graves near the entrance are given a once over, but then she starts to move away to give Tim some privacy. And to step up towards one of the angel statues.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Hey, Rose..." he begins, squinting slightly at the motif. "I think I've seen this before." He glances up over towards her as she moves towards one of the statues, then his eyes widen, his hand quickly reaching into his pocket, pulling out an extendable staff that's been crunched down to the size of a roll of quarters, quickly extending it to full. He may not be armored, but he almost never goes anywhere completely unarmed-- though this is all he has, and it's not even one with any tricks to it. "Behind you!" he warns, as the walls of the cemetery are starting to be leapt over by talons.

Dozens of talons.

Rose Wilson has posed:
The first 'hey, Rose' has her attention turning towards him, which is arguably probably why she doesn't notice the swarms of Talons coming over the wall until he a) pulls out his baton and b) goes "behind you!". Both are pretty good indications that something bad is about to happen.

Much like Tim, she never goes anywhere unarmed. Even if what she's armed with might not be her //best// weapons, she's not unarmed and helpless. No sword, and there doesn't //appear// to be any guns visible. So it might be no surprise that when she whirls around, she pulls a....knife?

Tim Drake has posed:
Though the Talons are armed with their twinned curved swords and the daggers strapped to their arms, as they advance, none of them draw their weapons yet. Tim backs away from them into the cemetery itself, planning to try and use the stones and mausoleums as partial cover. He counts at least twenty and that's with a quick glance, and there's just him and Rose, and neither are armored nor ideally armed for this.

As the first few make their way to him, Tim becomes a blur of motion, focusing more on keeping them at a distance than disabling them for now, while he keeps an eye out for an escape route. He is all-too-aware of how outnumbered they are.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It's not impossible odds, but it's nearly impossible odds. The odds are not in their favor, especially considering the nature of the Talons, and the fact they don't //die//.

It's a quick calculation, the odds figured out, and although they aren't tipped in their favor, there isn't going to be any chance she'll just walk away. So Rose leaps into action instead of waiting for them to swarm her, the knife in her hand tucked so that the back of the blade curves down along her forearm instead of her holding it pointy end out. When she leaps, quite literally, towards the Talon's she steps up onto a low stone and launches herself forward in a dive, taking down two Talons.

The three hit the ground together, and the knife is slashed across the throat of one as she rolls quickly to the side, coming up into a crouch. She doesn't get off scott-free though, the t-shirt is ribben and there is ribbons of blood sliding down from her side where one of them got her. It's now a quick attempt to get as many briefly down as possible so they can get out asap.

Tim Drake has posed:
From behind, one of the Talons lunges, trying to grab Tim around the waist. He drops down and rolls backwards between the talon's legs, slamming his staff into him as he rises back to his feet. "If you see a chance, take it. Run!" Tim yells to Rose over the waves of zombie ninjas. Up to thirty, even with the few they have taken down-- some of those, however, are also getting back up. He bounces off one of the headstones, knocking it slightly off-kilter, as he uses the momentum to slam into a pair of the talons to knock them down, trying to make an exit.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Not without you."

She's not out for number one! Her father would be so disappointed.

Once she bounces back to her feet she settles into a light stance, weight on the balls of her feet. It's clear to anyone that's ever hung around Russian's that she might have picked up a few tricks fighting some, once or twice. Knock two down, four more step up to the plate. Rose moves forward, slicing one or two, kicking another. But it doesn't really matter how many, they aren't dead-dead, and there's always more in their place.

Tim Drake has posed:
If he had time to be touched, or to think about that statement coming from Rose's lips, he would. But Tim doesn't have time-- sweeping with his staff and punching, kicking and dodging: he may move nimbly and acrobatically among the undead, but there are too many of them. His staff is knocked aside, clattering among the headstones. That isn't enough to stop the fight in him, while he may prefer the reach the staff allows him, his training has been intense and extensive. One talon is actually lifted and hurled into a grouping of others, but that's not enough.

They dogpile him, and he's practically buried under a half dozen or more, fists and feet flying until he's pinned and stopped, then dragged back up to his feet, arms pinioned behind him painfully and feet bound together....

They haven't pulled swords or blades yet, and they were carrying binding material. They weren't here to kill, at least.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It doesn't seem to register to Rose that the behavior is odd, the lack of swords or blades. Although it honestly should register to her considering her last encounter with the Talons.

It doesn't register until she sees Tim go down, and come up trussed like a Christmas goose. And when she spots him being lifted upwards to his feet she forgets all about the ones that she was fighting. She diverts her attention, which could cost her if they decide to take advantage, and she starts to head for him to try and free him.

Tim Drake has posed:
Except then she is subject to a similar dogpile, and in similar fashion ultimately dragged back to her feet, bound. Tim's eyes are calm and angry as he looks over to Rose while they are both dragged towards the gate of the cemetery where Tim had been studying the small patterned plaza to begin with.

A woman in a business suit and a round, blank mask with only slits for eyes and a pinched center 'nose' steps into the cemetery, flanked by two Talons, these moving far more fluidly and more... humanly... than the others. A man in similar clothing comes quickly behind her. On her hip is a blade very similar to one Tim's seen before in one of the old talon enclaves in Gotham proper.

He scowls, systemically trying his bonds bit by bit, looking for weaknesses. It may take him some time, but he's practiced at this.

The man speaks. "Timothy. Pity we have to meet like this, but I assure you, we mean you no harm."

Rose Wilson has posed:
Even though she's bound, Rose doesn't stop struggling. She tries to kick with her bound feet, head butt, to anything and everything that is within her power to do to get free.

It doesn't stop, even as they are dragged towards the gate, and the pair there are the targets now. When she's within range, she spits at the man and woman, trying to get focus on //her//. Maybe holding out faith that Tim'll get free.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Sorry, didn't catch your name," Tim replies icily. While Rose is struggling, Tim doesn't quite look like he is, but he continues to test his bounds, so far finding no leeway. So he begins to create it, shifting the bonds up and down, loosening them. It'll be slow work.

"In good time," the man replies. "You'll be coming with us, of course. There's a few matters of grave importance we need to discuss about your future."

Tim's eyes narrow.

Rose's spitting on them is ignored by the man, but the woman snarls wordlessly, drawing the blade on her waist. "Speaking of futures, I've been waiting for this part for days." She moves up towards Rose, just out of her range of flailing and headbutting. The mask she wears disguises any expression she might have, but the loving way she tilts the blade at Rose says more than enough.

"No, wait, what do you think you're doing--" Tim starts, a touch of fear in his tone, and at this point his struggles against his bonds become more visible.

"Bring her to the circles," she tells the talons holding Rose.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Screw you!"

Rose probably should stop while she's ahead, right? But she doesn't. She keeps trying to break free from the Talon's that are holding her, and kick at the lady with the sword.

Which, spoiler, neither of those things seem to be working out for her. But it does, hopefully, take the attention off Tim. Tim can get free, right?

Tim Drake has posed:
Not really. Given another ten, fifteen minutes, sure. But they don't have that kind of time, as Rose is dragged towards the two interlocked circles in the stone, then shoved down roughly to her knees by the talons. The woman in the mask slashes at Rose's left arm across the bicep, then the right, blood beginning to spill out on the ground, splattering the inside of the circles. She begins chanting in a language not even Tim recognizes (and he speaks quite a few and can recognize most others).

The sounds of the nearby woods goes silent. The birds stop singing. Though the sun is still in the sky, its as if the cemetery itself has begun to darken like nightfall has come.

Tim's struggles become more frantic now, his wrists beginning to bleed as he fights the bonds. "The hell are you doing? Rose!" The man in the suit and one of the Talons with him move to flank Tim, the man placing a hand on Tim's shoulder. "You'll understand once it's over. Believe me, this is for the best." His voice is soothing, though it doesn't seem to soothe Tim's mind at all.

Rose Wilson has posed:
When she gets shoved down her center of balance is off, and she tips forward a bit, then she starts to try and get herself up. Even with them probably still holding her down, and her new matching slashes.

Maybe the effort to get up is doubled, actually, by those two cuts, and then the chanting. Chanting isn't ever good. Never good at all. Rose lifts one foot and plants it against the ground to try and push herself upwards, "RUN!" Not her, maybe she's trying to get Tim to run away now.

Tim Drake has posed:
Another pair of slashes, these lower across Rose's thighs, more blood spilling to join what's already in the circles. The outer rings begin to darken, and perhaps it's a trick of the fading light, perhaps its a trick of the mind, but those rings begin to turn slightly. Tim would run, but he can't-- though if he could, it would be to tackle the woman with the knife. "Stop it," he snarls, his eyes glittering with rage. And tears. He saw the room. He suspects what's about to happen. "Leave her alone! She has nothing to do with this, just let her go!"

Another pair of slashes on Rose's forearms. The woman smiles behind her mask, though no one can see it. Her body language is clearly pleased. "One less piece of gutter trash in this world," she says, rearing back for a final stroke.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Each slice is met with a desire to not show weakness. Weakness gets you punished. It makes the pain worse, the situation worse. It makes it all worse.

But a sound escapes anyways, despite Rose's best effort. The voice, and the phrase, it causes a very visceral reaction in Rose, and she tries to launch herself towards the woman, spitting out at her, "And your daughter is a whore."

Tim Drake has posed:
That launch might save Rose later. The blade slides into her chest where her heart is (at least, from Tim's perspective), and the sky darkens more...

And the swirling darkness around Rose's body as she is brought to the ground before the blade is ripped out slams into Tim, staggering him. The man beside him squeezes his shoulder. "Hm. She seems like she was a bit weak, but we'll manage." He pauses. "How do you feel?"

Tim just watches blood pump out of Rose's chest in despair as the circles fill and pulse. Another twist of darkness rises from around her, seeking him out again. He tries to push back away from it to no benefit. "NO!" tears spill down his face. "Rose, don't... you've killed her. Why?" Despair washes through him as his blood drips from his wrists. He's stopped struggling.

The woman steps out of the circle and the darkness begins to fade away again. "Of course she was weak, who knows what paltry lineage she come from. But it should be enough." She pats Tim on the face with a blood splattered hand. He snarls and tries to attack her, then his face looks confused for a moment. He looks to his shoulder, where the contents of a syringe is just finished being shoved into his bloodstream.

"You fucking basta--" he manages before swooning forward into unconsciousness.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It is not the first time she's been stabbed. It is the first time someone has stabbed her in the heart, and the first time she's just been used in some magical ceremony and left for dead.

As the blade slices through skin there is a second where she looks positively shocked by the current circumstances. She did not see that exact thing coming. Then she drops, cheekbone smacking against the stone beneath her, actually cracking the bone just a small fraction. But that's a small problem compared to the larger ones.

That is.....a lot of blood.

Tim Drake has posed:
The man quickly goes through Tim's pockets, tossing his phone, keys, a second phone... everything he's carrying on the ground. He loosens and unties Tim's tie and it joins the pile. There's a brief patdown of the unconscious young man, and then when he's satisfied there's nothing remaining to remove or throw out, he gives the talons a nod.

They hand Tim off to two of the Talons that had come in with the man and the woman, who lift him in a carry. "The rest of you know what you need to do. Destroy the Waynes. They've troubled us long enough."