4744/Another You: Bleake House

Another You: Bleake House
Date of Scene:	15 January 2021
Location:	Robbinsville - Bleake Island
Synopsis:	Terry walks into a trap set for him in Bleake Island, but fortunately Red Robin comes to the rescue. The plot thickens as it turns out that Terry's worst enemy is himself. And Damian is still a butt.
Cast of Characters:	Terry O'Neil, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

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Terry O'Neil has posed:
There are some things you have to do, even when you feel that the world has thrown you to the curb and stomped on you hard. Who hasn't, at one point or another, made out with their own doppelganger while paying a visit to their reformed murderclown friend? Who hasn't had their powers partially stolen by their doppelganger? Who hasn't, at one point or another, felt completely redundant and useless in the presence of three super-women when you suddenly realize that, without half of your powers, you are pretty much useless in a team?

Okay, so maybe that is /super specific/ to Terry O'Neil, but the principle of the thing holds. He may be feeling in the dumps, but Lois Lane and the Planet expect you to feel that way and still pull your weight in.

Bleake Island does credit to its name. Once prosperous, things had taken a wild downward turn just like /everything/ in Gotham does at one point or another. The once-gilded facade of Panessa studios stands in the bleak midwinter as a testament of glories gone by and the corruption that seeps in when the lights are turned off. There was little room in Gotham nowadays for escapist make-believe, and the lot has been abandoned for as long as anyone can remember. Likewise, it has also been used for many nefarious ends for as long as anyone can remember.

Terry gets out of the car and looks around. The rental isn't fancy- or even that new, which is something you want when you are driving around in Gotham in a rental. Attention was to be avoided. He checks his phone one more time and makes sure that yes, this is indeed the address that was given to him. He had been asking some pointed questions about the potential shady goings-on linked to a certain famous Asylum and he suspected his contact was setting him up... a lot of sources had dried up the moment he had gone public with the fact that he was a superhero, and he was wondering how many of the ones that hadn't were just waiting to plunge the knife in.

"Well... guess I get to find out!" he adjusts the bracelet on his hand, flipping it so the rainbow bands are facing down and the mirror side is facing up. He might need a quick transformation.

Stuffing his hands in his coat, he starts walking nonchalantly around the lot, trying to find a way in- a violated padlock, a door swinging open, anything at all, all the while occasionally using his bracelet mirror to look behind him, in case someone was following.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Tim Drake has posed:
    It's been, some time since Tim really got out of the whole 'group' things he was involved in, dealing with clows returning from over seas, dealing with his own return from an away trip, and even the last solo thing he remembers doing without the Outsiders or with the Bats, was, chasing down another dude in a mask. That poor Spider-Man, and even now, Tim isn't sure if the dude is to be trusted or not, guess he'll have to follow up on that soon enough. But for now, Tim is wearing his newest suit, the suit that isn't related to the bats, though... it kind of is easy to make that jump.

    Red Robin. He shakes his head as he finds himself now patrolling at Bleake Island, seems the place he wanted to be, isolated, lower chance of the others being out here, he could be alone and deal with his confused mind at the same time.

    The sounds of the waves crash against the rocks and beaches around the island, though it's never overwealming somehow, and so Tim is lost in thought as he stumbles upon a somewhat familiar looking site.

    "..."

    ((Should get in touch with Damian...)) The Robin thinks to himself as he steps to the edge of the building looking down over the lot Terry is casing.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Absolutely nothing? What kind of a set up was this? If it was one. I tcould also be the most incompetent contact meet-up. Terry frowns, looking exasperated. "Guy must be an amateur," he mumbles, walking through the back lot and looking at the multi-level fire exits. The back lot had generous space for what must have been , at one point, trailers for celebrities. Now it was just... well, trailers. And junk. He didn't need to go near the trailers- there was no telling who might be living there, so instead he climbs up one of the escapes and starts looking at things.

And then he stops. He could have missed it, if he hadn't been careful, but right by one door there is a little planet, hastily scrawled in chalk by the door handle.

He wiggles it- no luck. Locked. Locked? Whomever it was, they were making him work for it. They probably assumed he wouldn't be suspicious if it wasn't too easy.

"So what would Lois Lane do?" he said to himsef. Well... it was obvious.

She would walk into the trap, knowing it was a trap.

He steps back and, looking around, he smirks. There, resting among boxes and piled up garbage in the corner of the fire escape, there was a crowbar.

Just, you know, a crowbar, resting there, thank you very much. "They must think I'm an idiot. Or I'm dealing with the Gotham equivalent of hobbyists."

He bends down to pick up the crowbar.

And it is at that moment that a man appears to step out from out of the wall, and levels a /smack/ with a blackjack across the back of Terry's head. The redhead slumps to the ground immediately, unconscious.

"Hobbyists, eh?" the man says with a twisted grin. There are parts of him that are fading in and out of view, but a careful observer will notice that there seems to be a chameleon effect going on, not actual full invisibility. He had been laying in wait.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim stands up sharply and blinks quickly as the shadow of Terry falls onto the groud after a deeper shadow nears the man. <<Anyone on the comms?>> Red Robin calls in with a frown as he swallows at the knot in his throat and then gets to work. Two steps back and then a running start and Red Robin dives off the rooftop and quickly has his grappling hook fired to bring him closer to the building and swinging into backyard with the trailers.

    Landing with a roll and his several visual spectrums and even auditory spectrums primed up and scanning the area for any signs of Terry or the attacker, expecting more than one, but not even knowing if the 'one' is still in the area.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Good job," the locked door opens and a man who looks like a linebacker stuffed into a suit and tie one size too small for him walks out, followed by a few other men. The transluscent man bows theatrically and gestures to the prone body. "All yours."

The burly man nods, "He come alone?"
"He came, as you say, alone."
The other man shakes his head and looks around, "Do a search, just in case he brought friends. You lot, get 'im up to the roof and awake. The sooner he talks the sooner we can get rid of 'him."

Two men grab Terry and carry him up the fire escape, towards the roof, while the rest of them follow.

The chameleon man smirks and blends into his surroundings again with a sardonic "Yes, boss."

He is mostly indistinguishable at plain sight, but infra-red scanners would show his form idly wandering around, descending from the fire escape and walking towards the back lot, hands in his pockets. His steps are remarkably quiet, and but for a slight undulation in the air here and there, he's positively invisible.

Tim Drake has posed:
    On the lot, Red Robin had quickly moved his way behind one of the trailers and scurried to be on top of it and gets a view of the exchange between the dudes and the shadow man, who... looks like a man, just invisible, or cloaked... Camouflage. Tim grits his teeth and seethes slightly before deciding to move as the man comes down, and Terry gets dragged up.

    "Hold on." Tim tells Terry sympathetically before he stands up and with a Robin-rang (These names are AWFUL) and throws it towards the Chameleon with a non-lethan but potent zap charge primed. The 'R' curves through the air and bites the man in the back and then a glow of blue errupts from the projectile and a puff of smoke whisps from the ends of the man's hair.

    Tim is already leaping off the trailer and landing in a roll, to protect the knees, and he's moving to the downed foe with bindings and ties moving quickly to secure the man into the metal frame of one of the trailer's hitches.

    With a pat of the guy's head Tim growls, "Hang tight, I'll be back for you." Tim is then reaching for his hook again and bypassing the escape ladder, he's zipplining up to the roof as any good bat learns at their creation.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry will have learned a very valuable lesson after all of this is said and done. So, too, will the chameleon. The main difference between them is that the chameleon will have a long time to think about it in a very, very quiet place. At this moment, it's up in the air whether Terry will have the time reflect- because he, too, is also up in the air.

The enormous man is holding Terry almost off the very edge of the ledge, after his goons have revived him with some sort of questionable solution that is definitely /not/ smelling salts. It certainly smelled of something, alright, and it burned like hell.

Fortunately for Red Robin, there's more than enough rooftop topography to use as cover, as the rusted hulks of air circulation ducts, units, and other industrial viscera that once kept the studio building well-ventilated are still present.

"Awake? Good!" the massive man shakes Terry, who is quickly becoming aware of how precarious his position is, giving out a yelp.

Gotta transform, gotta- he freezes. The bracelet is missing from his wrist. And he remembers that he had been carrying the bracelet in his hand to look at reflections behind him... and then he had gone up to the fire escape and...

Nothing.

The bracelet was there, of course. On the floor of the fire escape.

"Heard ya been askin' questions about a certain doctor..." the man's gruff voice brings him back to reality. He can't transform. These guys don't even have the decency to wear mirrored sunglasses! "So I gotta ask /you/ a question." A light push. Terry's toes are now the only thing on the ledge. "What do /you/ know... and who else knows, over at the Planet?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    He wants to quip, but that will come in time. For the moment, a young man is hanging from the ledge and Tim isn't quite close enough to be able to do anything about it. There's a lot he could do, but Terry would fall, for sure and even if Tim caught him there would be pain at the least. No, he's gotta be stealthy and quiet about this. Rising up onto one of the heater units, Red Robin's shadow is visible only to Terry for a brief moment when a hand lifts up before his face and the single fingure gesture for 'shhh' is given and then the cape is gone.

    Without a sound, Tim grabs a goon by the neck and a quick lift of his back, the man is choked and lifted from being able to make a noise until the body goes limp. Night night. Red Robin then moves up and closer to the second goon he can reach and another choke hold is applied with a gloved hand over the man's mouth and nose putting him down, preventing screams and groans.

    And there were three. Tim quickly assesses and leaps up onto an exposed air duct and shouts, "Hey, that's my bit!" Before he dives forwards towards the big guy and throws his hands forwards as though he was going to spear the dude with both his fists, even knocking all three of them off the edge if the man doesn't react right.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The goons prove no match for the Red Robin, and Terry's eyes widen slightly when he catches sight of the cape, and the gesture. Of course, Terry's interrogator doesn't really notice his reaction as anything other than a reaction to being shaken.

So, of course, he is taken completely by surprise when he hears Red Robin's shout and he whirls around, keeping one hand on Terry's neck. His surprise instantly turns into rage as he reflexively pulls back an arm, ready to punch, "You little sh-"
    he unfortunate part about reflexes is that they sometimes tend to be context blind. Mister Big here would think nothing about pulling his foot back and resting his weight on it to rev up for a punch, and any other day it would have been very effective. Here, however, it means that his foot suddenly finds itself on empty air, bearing his weight.

Terry is the first to go down, not having even a chance to scream. Miraculously, though, his hands manage to grab onto an ledge belonging to the story immediately below and, thanks to his parkouring expertise, he clings on for dear life.

Unfortunately, Mister Big is on the way, and he manages to grab a hold of Terry's midsection.

"FU-" Terry's fingers begin to slide, with no purchase capable of allowing him to hold himself /and/ three hundred pounds of muscle like that.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Whoa! Tim is falling along with the other two only he's much more equiped and prepared for the fall, even going so far as already having thought through a way to catch all three and yet, Terry seems to have done well with that for himself. As Tim falls from the side of the roof, he shoots out his grappling hook, latching firmly onto the building and bringing him back against the wall.

    Quickly Red Robin begins to walk up the wall and gets closer and closer to the large goon and Terry and a hand finds the man's back and pulls up after grasping against his shirt and suit coat. "Let go, or you both fall, and I can only save one of you." Tim says with a snarl.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
In Gotham, there are quite a few goons who are more willing to die than to fall into the hands of a bat, or the police. These are often the followers of established cult leaders and supervillains, who have grilled obedience and fanaticism into their followers, and have also funneled a good amount of money, or drugs, or both to them.

This man is not one of them, and when Red Robin grabs him, he offers no resistance and lets go, resigned to his fate.

Terry desperately grabs on, and manages to pull himself halfway to the ledge, his broad chest heaving with panic while his heart plays rat-tat-tat in his ears. "Ga--- gah that... that was close," he says. Of course, he's still half-sitting on a ledge with no clear way to get back down, but at least that's an improvement on his immediate situation. He puts up a hand to his savior, "I'll... wait for you here... just gotta.... catch my breath."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "I'll be right back sir." Tim says towards Terry as the hook slowly unwinds and he lowers the goon towards the ground and in short order, has the man in cuffs, this time around a nearby telephone pole, and takes the time to write a note and stick to the man's back. "Be back for /you/ later too." Red Robin smirks and pats the dude on the back hard before he moves back over towards Terry and aims the hook gun past the catman and is zipping up towards the roof again.

    "Ride to the top floor for any takers." Tim offers a hand towards Terry as he's going to go back up and find those last two goons he left, unless they felt like running away.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The teen raises an eyebrow and smirks, a little more in control of his heartbeat by now. "That's funny... normally I'm the one doing the gallant rescuing... I guess everybody gets one, eh?" He would have been the Cat. He could have just walked in disguised in an illusion... but there were several problems, such as his feline shape being injured... half his powers being stripped... and the fact that he could be the cat only for so long before he started getting loopy, necessitating him to stay in human shape for several hours. Sometimes you just coudn't plan ahead.

He reaches over to take Red Robin's hand and says, "I've met a good chunk of the capes and tights people in this town, but I think this is the first time I see your mask."

It's parlance some have adopted, with masked vigilantes. Some people say 'your mask looks familiar', which is a lot better than saying 'I think I've seen your chin before' or 'Now where have I seen THOSE eyebrows?' if you are inclined to be particularly weird.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "It's fairly new." Tim says as he takes Vorp's hand and as soon as they're secure, the hook gun continues to pull them up and back to the roof. Helping the man onto the roof and giving a smirk and a motion forwards, away from the ledge, "Care to go catch the rest of those mooks?" Tim asks with a hidden eyebrow lifting and a smirk flashing across his lips before he waits for Terry to make a choice, maybe Tim can already tell by that parlance that Terry isn't exactly all he appears to be himself.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The ginger smiles, "Nah... I think I want them to run. They're going to report to someone, and that's going to shake a bush or two that might give me a lead. Besides, I can't really chase them down at my best, I took a bullet to the shoulder and I'm still healing." His shoulder looks perfectly fine and his mobility isn't impaired, so he has to clarify: "In my... you know. Business shape. I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Keith O'Neil with the Planet. Usually go by Vorpal when I'm doing the punching and the catching." He offers his hand, and looks at Tim's costume, "Red. Black. I see an 'R'... now I know you can't be Robin, unless those boots are hiding three feet worth of lifts..."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Vorpal... it rings a bell. And you're not too far off." Tim says, turning and looking back towards Vorpal with a hand offering to shake. "Red Robin is the name. And please don't say 'Yum'..." The cape says with a groan as if he's already heard that joke a billion times. "And Yeah, I've worked with your Robin before... he's... short jokes don't come close." The masked man nods and smirks. "I'll have to give him more of a hard time."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry shakes the hand and then obviously fights very hard not to turn his smile into a pirate grin, all mischief, "Okay, okay. But I hope you realize the titanic effort I have to make not to say that. Or to make jokes about buns. I get the theme, though- birds , birds of prey, chiroptera and whatnot are de rigeur around here."

"Oh, don't tease him about his height, I'm afraid he never rises up to the task. He absolutely disdains me." He walks over to the ledge and looks over, eliciting a low whistle at how close he cut it. "Then again... considering that without my powers I'm a pushover, maybe he's right." He smirks and turns to look at Red Robin, half expecting the Gothamite to have already vanished in complete silence, as his kind are wont to do.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Then suddenly, out of nowhere, two batarangs fly towards both jackasses and hit them on their heads.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"And gone in three... two..." as he turns, Terry is almost grinning at the prospect of being able to predict the local folklore and ways of Gotham. This shows that he is not as wise in its ways as he thinks he is, though, because not only does he see a space devoid of Red Robin, he also sees is a space full of batarang, and he sees it coming far too late to react in any meaningfull way.


=-^*WANG*^-=

There is silence for a long time, before a low groan can be heard coming from the deserted rooftop, followed by:

"That... little shit. I'm going to throw him into the dryer until they need fucking Pym particles to find him!"

Terry closes his eyes and sighs, laying on the floor for a few more seconds. At least, he reasons, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.


=============================


Somewhere in New York City.

=============================



"What do you mean...?"
The figure is standing by the window inside an abandoned building, talking on the phone.
"You fucking morons, how can you screw that up? I told you not to let him look into-"
Pause.
"A /Robin?/ I know for a fact he hates his guts."
More listening.
"Nah, you're fuck out of luck. I gave you the tip you needed and you blew it. Good luck when he comes for you."

He hangs up the call and his face twists into a rictus of anger. He walks past the window and the lights from outside illuminate his face. Terry O'Neil's doppelganger taps his chin for a few seconds and nods. It was time to move to the next idea, riskier though it may be. He pulls up a website and looks up a firm's phone number. He dials.

A voice on the other end of the call answers "Hayes, Addison and O'Neil, this is Becky speaking."
"Becky!" 'Terry' says, in a passable imitation of the other's congeniality, "This is Terry. Is mom there? No? Okay... can you take a message? I need her to meet me somewhere..." he smirks.