Difference between revisions of "7967/Robin Vs Owl"

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m (Backdating this scene slightly to account for wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff.)
m (Backdating this scene slightly to account for wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff.)
 
(No difference)

Latest revision as of 15:56, 25 September 2021

Robin Vs Owl
Date of Scene: 22 September 2021
Location: The Narrows
Synopsis: Tim, and Lincoln have a lengthy conversation that raises more questions than it answers.
Cast of Characters: Lincoln March, Tim Drake




Lincoln March has posed:
     The dead of night in the narrows. Gotham's forgotten borough sleeps. The streets are empty of the usual innocents trapped in this section of city. The homeless lean around fires to keep warm, their hands held close to the blaze in hopes of comfort in the harsh chill of the night.

     The men and women that remain are creatures of the night peddling drugs at odd hours or searching for their latest victim. This is the state of the city at night, the state of the place known as the Narrows.

     Many of the windows on buildings are smashed or cracked but one stands open. A voice calm and friendly echoes out from the open window bellowing out kind and welcoming words to a young boy. The source of the voice is none other than Owlman stood by the window as he finishes his discussion with the young figure. "Always remember there are other ways to live." He offers with a smile in his voice the actual face hidden behind a featureless white owl mask with bright orange eyes. "You have a bright future ahead of you, I can tell." He ruffles the young boys hair before hopping onto the windowsill looking back over his shoulder.

     "I don't know if I'm strong enough." The boy replies towards the figure.

     "You've got strength of the heart, and that's the most important strength of all." Comes the reply from Owlman as he leaps out of the window diving down towards the street level in the pitch black of darkness.

Tim Drake has posed:
    The Narrows are indeed forgotten by most, but not all. Many of the city's vigilantes make their presence known here from time to time, but Red Robin has exhibited a more concentrated interest in the area. Mostly focused around the apartment building of a certain technologically gifted young woman and her brother, as well as an adjacent few blocks with a burgeoning neighborhood watch.

    It's not as easy, monitoring crime here. So many of the locals distrust the GCPD, long accustomed to their calls for help going ignored. So Tim hits the streets--well, metaphorically. His patrol takes him across the rooftops, monitoring things from above, following a randomized predetermined path laid out on the map of Gotham all but carved into the inside of his skull.

    He doesn't arrive in time to overhear much of the conversation, and judging by that... those few kind words at the end, well, that hardly seems like something he should be concerned by.

    Well, other than a grown man having a conversation with a boy through his window in the middle of the night. But the city is known for its nocturnal population with their strange habits, so Tim really can't judge.

    The shape that flows down to the street below from the window is followed a few beats later by a quiet flash of red and black, Red Robin's cape expanding to slow his momentum as he approaches the ground. His boots make contact with hardly a whisper, and then he rises up to his feet.

    For a moment he pauses to look up at the window, and the figure of the boy at it. Then Tim frowns slightly and begins to follow.

Lincoln March has posed:
     The figure itself is a shadowy silver reflection of Batman. Everything from head to toe something that's reminiscent of the dark knight pushed through the other side of the looking glass. This is a darker figure clad in silver owl-like visage. Not a bat-man, but an Owl-Man like the old stories of the hero from the 1940's.

     He hits the ground without a sound going from the third story down to ground level without any problem in his motion. He flows back up to a stand like a shadow rising up in the darkness. As he turns on the spot he manages to lock eyes with Robin. Those eyes are a bright orange pair of glowing disks on the surface of the court of owls mask. A mask he would know all too well.

     He cracks his neck slowing to a stop as he looks towards the figure of Robin standing in the wet cobbled streets of the narrows. Sizing up the figure of Tim Drake without a word. He extends his arms to either side while seemingly floating backwards a few feet.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim lives and breathes Gotham far too much to not know who Owl-Man was. Still, judging by the hesitation that shows in the way he goes still, he must be surprised to see him--or someone dressed as him?--standing on the streets of the Narrows.

    And then the figure turns. Behind the white lenses of his domino mask, Red Robin's eyes widen, and then a second later narrow sharply. He takes a step back, into a defensive stance.

    "The Court is back in town," he says. Not a question. He must be aware of it already from some other source, though of course there's also plenty of evidence being presented to him right here and now, standing before him. Then his chin tips up, the tilt of his head suggesting his gaze has moved to the window Owl-Man was previously perched at. "Recruiting?"

    Obviously, though, Red Robin's eyes remain intent on the tall figure in silver across from him.

Lincoln March has posed:
     "The world is full of surprises isn't it?" The voice speaks up deep and gravily and heavily modulated. There's a world weary tone to it as he speaks standing tall on the spot. He walks in a half circle around Red Robin, looming tall and imposing as he soundlessly travels the street.

     A few small drops of rain fall on the street signaling the start of a typical downpour in the narrows. For the first time Owlman looks away from Tim, up towards the sky particles of rain falling down onto that flat featureless mask.

     "The boys are back in town." He begins to sing in a mesmerizing hauntingly beautiful voice. "The boys are back." He looks back down towards Red Robin now holding a collection of owl shaped throwing stars in his hand between each of his fingers. He seems half expecting a fight of some kind to break out as he sings with an obvious smile.

Tim Drake has posed:
    The suit he's wearing is well-insulated: from electricity, from fire, from small ballistic arms and knives, from the cold. But Tim still feels a faint chill travel down his spine as Owl-Man begins to pace around him, and slowly his stance shifts to follow, making sure he keeps the man in silver head-on.

    "Very little in Gotham is predictable, beyond that the corrupt and wicked will always try to take advantage of the good people that call this city home, just trying to live their lives." Red Robin's jaw sets, firm, and he's likely gritting his teeth, given the expression.

    When the singing starts, it certainly doesn't put him at ease. If he'd been trained by anyone else, Tim might have let that get to him, allowed it to influence his actions when Owl-Man produces those throwing stars.

    But Batman is sturdier than that, and so is Red Robin.

    All he does is lift his chin faintly. "Is that what you're here to do?" he asks.

Lincoln March has posed:
     The circling continues like a shark circling a wounded seal. His stance is controlling confident and yet there's still something unnatural about his movements, planned out in advance like an expert dancer who's gone through this ten thousand times before.

     He flicks the knives from one finger to another twisting them around his hand as they shift. This //was// a dance of sorts after all and there's many ways it could go.

     "You're a smart boy Timothy." He says the words with a bit of a sweet and friendly tone of voice. Too friendly as if they were both already on first name basis the whole time. "Well trained too." He continues circling as the rain begins to grow worse by the moment. "Be honest with me, do you think that's what I'm here for?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    Owl-man continues to circle, and thus, the slow pivoting continues on Red Robin's part too. One arm remains in front of his torso, hand curled into a fist, position defensive. The other lingers near his side, potentially to go for something on his utility belt, or pull his cape in front of him should one of those knives fly.

    The name drop doesn't make him react, not visibly, though there is a minute pause in the exhale of the breath he lets out just before Owl-Man says Timothy, and the inhale of the next.

    Still. Not good.

    "Not exactly a whole lot of information to base an answer on," he says, voice steady. There's wariness in his posture, but not nerves, even if he might be feeling them deep-down. That's not a weakness Tim is going to show, not with someone whose threat potential he is pretty well-acquainted with.

    His mouth thins into a line. Then one of his shoulders shrugs, lightly. "Still, I'd wager you're at something of a loose end. However much damage was done to the Court, even if it clearly wasn't enough to put them down for good, it was extensive, wasn't it? You're back in Gotham, recruiting--low on manpower?--looking to get back into the game."

    Behind his mask, his eyes narrow again. "The real question is, what are you playing? Picking the Narrows--smart. Little to no GCPD presence, a lot of resentment and frustration for you to build on."

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Oh by that logic you would have me at a disadvantage." Spoken with another friendly smile. He's got that unsettlingly friendly mister rogers thing going on in a bad way. "Clearly I waited too long and I've been caught." He pauses for a brief moment not once pausing in his stride as he picks apart every facet of Red Robin looking for some reaction, some weakness in his defenses.

     "Now why did I wait a full year to act? That's the golden question."

     The young boy watches the proceedings from his window with great interest, out of earshot but not out of sightline from the goings on. He tilts his head from one side to the other looking on in great interest. Scruffy and disheveled as he may be.

     "I'm an underachiever clearly to have waited so long with inaction." That smile still held firmly in his voice as the knives go up into the air and back down into his hand the man attempting to pry something out of the young ward. The question remains what?

Tim Drake has posed:
    No one is perfect, not even the Dark Knight of Gotham, but right now Red Robin is presenting a competent front, leaving little for Owl-Man to discern. Yes, there is obviously some concern in what can be seen of Tim's expression, his cautious personality fully on display, but whatever turmoil of emotions he might be feeling inside regarding the Court of Owls being back, his identity being known to them?

    Very hard to get any true sense of that. Focus now, panic later.

    "There wasn't a timeline attached to my theory. The Court was too good at hiding for me to consider anything except you wanting to be found, now."

    His head tips to the side faintly. "If that's the golden question, then I suppose the silver one would be: why are you *revealing* yourself now? Not just to me, but to all of us."

    The lenses hide the way his eyes occasionally flick to the knives in the air, a micro-twitch of an expression. "Do you just want us to know you're here?" he asks. "Or is the motivation deeper than that?"

Lincoln March has posed:
     Silence from Owlman as he walks in circles slowly but surely still tossing those knives. Finally broken as Tim asks the important question. "Oh clearly I'm one of those regular costumed crooks who likes the attention, arrogant enough to think it won't matter if I step out in the open, overplaying his hand."

     He takes a light bow holding hands out to either side as he looks Red Robin dead in the eyes once again with those amber glowing disks. The rain is getting worse by the moment drenching the street and yet he still doesn't make a sound as he moves cape fallen down to hide his feet from view.

     "No doubt you'll have me in blackgate by the end of the week." He pauses. "Or maybe there's something more I need from you all, something only the family Wayne can provide." He chuckles to himself as he looks back up at the rain. "Stranger things have happened."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Red Robin's hair is plastered to his skull now, because of the rain. Not much to be done about it. It rains often enough in Gotham that it's almost like background noise, blending into the sounds of car horns and wheels over cobbled streets.

    Still, it adds to the deeply unsettling mood that hangs in the air now. Tim can't help but feel like some small creature, slowly being cornered. It's not a nice feeling.

    "Hardly," is all he says to Owlman's initial supposition. Red Robin knows startlingly little about him, but it's still more than enough for him to be on his guard. The name Wayne makes his brow furrow, slightly.

    He shouldn't. It feels like obvious bait, but at the same time, Tim feels that he's already sprung the trap. Might as well, at this point.

    "What, then? Money? Power? What is it that the Waynes have that you want?"

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Two strikes" Owlman leaps up into the air in a display of superhuman acrobatics landing on the other side of Red Robin. The rain slicking off of his silver cape as he comes down hard against the watery street. "Third one you're out." The knives gone from his hand as if they were never there.

     "There's something else I want, and in time your chase will happily give it to me by happenstance" He looks over his shoulder sliding the secondary blade back into his wrist from its position just a few inches away from Drakes kidney. "You're a smart boy, I have no doubt you'll figure it out before it's too late."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The leap is fast enough, and impressive enough, that Red Robin has barely begun to pivot on his heel when Owlman lands behind him. He freezes, perhaps sensing the hidden blade poised against him, and his hands curl into fists at his sides.

    "It's always games," he mutters to himself, a lone hint of weariness in his tone.

    The threat, and then the cryptic clues as to what Owlman's, and the Court's, true purpose is in their return to Gotham, crack Tim's expression enough to get him frowning. But then he's straightening up just slightly. He gives no reply, just stands there in the rain, cape twisted around him and fluttering slightly amidst the wind.

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Some people can't simply be told," The blade is already gone just moments after it's noticed more of a show of force than anything else. "They have to be shown" He pauses for a brief moment before adding quietly. "If I told you we were on the same side you'd spit on my honesty and see it for lies." He chuckles quietly to himself. "It's a shame that it has to be this way."

     With that the presence of the figure is gone nothing behind Tim any longer just the rain falling on the soaking wet streets of the Narrows. The wind blows through the streets catching with it a number of debris that swifts on the breeze.

Tim Drake has posed:
    For several long moments after Owlman has vanished, Red Robin remains standing where he is.

    Not frozen. Lost in thought. Eventually his face lifts into the rain, his gaze once again making the journey up to the window, where he had previously glimpsed the silhouette of a young boy. The rain pelts against the exposed skin of his face, around his mask.

    "A shame," Tim repeats, considering. Then he walks away, into the night.