Owner	Pose
Tim Drake	The weather on the East Coast has been bitterly cold for weeks now but what little snowfall New York has seen never quite has time to collect on the ground. Unfortunately, by all reports, that's due to change today. Heavy grey clouds hang on the horizon on slow approach, darkening half of the sky and strangling the weak morning sunlight into almost nothing.     Still, it is unquestionably daytime, which makes Red Robin vaguely uncomfortable in that way all nocturnal animals feel when they're forced out of the comfort of the dark. He remains in the shadows of a parking garage on the edge of the Garment District, looking out towards the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel and the Hudson, beyond.     One corner of the structure was damaged in the chaos of the Heavenly Host's arrival to Manhattan, and several abandoned cars have fallen into the rubble that now blocks off 8th Avenue.     It only takes him a couple of seconds to pick his way up through the crumbled concrete and climb up to the penultimate level of the parking garage, where he's established a forward operations camp. Naturally, the location has been geo-tagged so that the Bats and their allies can track him down, should that be necessary.     Several cameras stand on tripods or hang suspended from the ceiling, monitoring the surrounding area. There are a few crates of supplies, one of which he takes a seat on, folding his legs underneath him as he pushes open a laptop and waits for it to boot up.     Off in the distance, a group of cherubim trail across the top of a destroyed building that used to be a dim sum restaurant. Tim's stomach grumbles in the silence, and he sighs as he starts to type.
Lonnie Machin	"I'd really like to catch one of these E-D-Bs," Anarky says, where he's leaning nearby. "I'm sure with a little examination I could get a handle on what it really is. Posing as some sort of religiously-based entity in order to throw the superstitious into a frothing fervor is exactly what a malefic extradimensional entity would do." He watches those Cherubim and then says, "I'm sure if I could figure out the right kind of bait - and the right kind of cage - I could snag one."     He pauses, and then says, "But then I'd have to vivisect it. Nasty. I have a feeling if I went full 'Alien Autopsy' you'd break up with me."
Natasha Cranston	It has been almost three weeks since the being that invaded Manhattan made his announcements and claims, and Natasha finds that her wrath has not diminished in the slightest. She doesn't ''care'' who this "Archangel Michael" believes he is. His claims of superior morality do not impress her, and her actions even less so. There will be a ''reckoning'' and she will be part of administering if if she can.     For now, however, a direct attack does not seem to be viable, and she does not Know nearly enough about what she's dealing with yet.     Getting around in Manhattan is slightly less convenient than usual -- Benny was safely evacuated together with all CMS personnel -- but at the same time, something about simply walking down the street has a certain restful aspect to it. So far, the patrolling Cherubim don't appear to notice her presence, but she isn't intent on testing how far that extends by forcing a confrontation before she's ready.     She consults the map on the additional 'phone' that Batgirl offered her; there's a location marked with the sign for 'outpost' nearby. Worth checking out...
Tim Drake	All told, it doesn't really deserve the title of outpost. There are a few strategically hung tarps that do more to obstruct people looking in than anyone looking out, but ultimately it's just... an open air parking garage. That the angelic occupying army doesn't particularly care about people so long as they're not actively hostile is the only reason Red Robin can maintain a presence here.     Some presence it is. There are a couple of folding tables set up to support some monitors, and a sleeping bag still rolled up on the floor--never used--among the crates.     Red Robin looks up from his laptop screen to check the perimeter surveillance. Nothing.     Wait, no, was that--     "I don't really care what they are, ultimately," he says, still side-eyeing the camera feed he was sure just flickered with shadows. "Their existence on this plane is bound by the same rules as you'd expect for heavenly beings, so functionally that's what they are. We can debate the particulars once reality isn't at threat for being restarted."     His fingers have been moving across the keyboard this entire time, though the rapid clack-clack-clack stops, suddenly. "That's a bad idea. And yeah, kind of a deal breaker."     As he resumes typing, Red Robin shakes his head a little and says, "Figured you'd stay back in Gotham. What brings you up? Sorry, but there's no chance of getting decent pizza right now."     Why yes, that is generally the only reason he'd make the trip up, willingly.
Lonnie Machin	"So, are you familiar with the Gygaxian ethical wheel?" Lonnie says, "And how some psychologists have actually revisited it as a way of evaluating human personalities?" He tilts his head, and says, "Well, let's just say there's somebody really cute in New York City and I'd be upset if something happened to him."     He pushes himself off the wall. "So in essence, you have 'Law' and 'Chaos' which represent someone's willingness to participate in and perpetuate organized systems, and 'good' and 'evil' which represent one's selfless interest versus self-interest." He pushes himself off the rubble he's leaning against.
Natasha Cranston	"A somewhat simplistic but succinct model," comes an unnerving voice out of a shadowed corner, and as the others turn to look the shadows shift, twist, and appear to pull clear off the wall and solidify until the Shadow stands before them. "To pursue order, or to pursue freedom; to help others, or inflict harm for personal gain. Although I would not consider them as static alignments, but rather a continuing series of choices."     The figure shrugs for a moment. "To make that choice, time and again, to decide for oneself what to do -- this is the purpose of free will, as I understand it."
Tim Drake	"I've DMed for you before," Red Robin says flatly, and he's still staring at the bank of camera feeds. He drums his fingers against the shell of his laptop, momentarily stymied from collating whatever report he'd been working on.     The Shadow's appearance is given the same reaction as Anarky's; that is to say, not much of one at all. Frankly, he's just too tired to be surprised, at this point. Though the Shadow's arrival comes at a point where... well, were Red Robin's cheeks that pink beforehand? No, it certainly must just be from the cold. Wind-chapped, yes, that's it.     He looks over, which is made clear only by the subtle turn of his head. The domino mask obscuring nearly half of his face with its sharp, bird-like angles hides exactly where his vision is aimed. As well as the dark circles below his eyes. "As far as I can tell, free will was never intended to be a player in this game," he replies as he folds his laptop shut. "But you can always count on us pesky humans to stick our noses in. "     As he stands, he makes a sweeping motion to the surrounding area. "'Make yourselves comfortable' is what I would say here if there was any way in which to do so. But there's not, so. Welcome to the resistance, I guess." Red Robin doesn't sound quite so sure of that designation at the end there.
Lonnie Machin	"But," Anarky says, "Extradimensional beings are locked in the behavioral mode indicated by their alignments. Stepping outside of that behavior fundamentally changes what they are, if they do it at all." He shrugs, and then adds, "So a celestial being that makes the choice to do evil falls, and becomes a Demon or a Devil. A Devil exists to perpetuate systems that lock sentient beings into cycles of degradation, pain and misery."     "A demon, being aligned with the principles of the rejection of systems and selfishness, is a gibbering shit-monster, a creature that even at its most persuasive and urbane and patient has the ultimate end-goal of nothing but ruin. It can be devious but it can't be constructive."     He shrugs, and then says, "While I'm a decidedly non-spiritual man, this whole thing seems designed to *mock* people's belief. Built to attack it. And I find that-" He thinks. "Well. It would be like someone creating a clone of you that ran around robbing banks and pushing old women into traffic. I would be - discomfited. But I would also, on a deep and visceral level, reject that Red Robin as a fraud."
Natasha Cranston	The Shadow nods at Lonnie's comment. "I find his presumption flat out ''offensive'' -- Our worthiness to exist is ours to decide, not his. No matter who he claims he may be."     The figure turns to Robin, one eyebrow archy raised. "To answer the question you considerately declined to ask, yes, I intend to stand with the rest of mankind, in rebellion. We'll make our own fate, and to damnation with anyone who seeks to decree otherwise."
Tim Drake	For a few seconds, Red Robin is silent. Usually he's pretty snappy with his responses, but all he does for a long moment is stand there, arms folded over his chest as he looks out through a gap in the hanging tarps.     "Like I said, the debate about their true nature isn't something I'm particularly interested in right now." Even if he's not visibly allowing the signs of exhaustion to show, it's there in his voice. Or maybe that's just a general world-weariness. "The only thing I care about is tracking the movements of the Heavenly Host in this area. And making sure they don't find what they're looking for."     A hand lifts to tap the side of his domino mask, toggling the telescoping lenses. The other hand flexes into a fist and then relaxes, at his side.     Eventually, though, he does turn away from his post looking over the city to say, "There was never a doubt in my mind." Red Robin nods to the Shadow, then, before he tilts his head towards Anarky. "You know, I would have thought you'd like to see me robbing banks."
Lonnie Machin	Lonnie casually unclips a thermos off his belt, and pours out a cup of coffee, which he passes to Red Robin. "Well, money isn't real, and banks are a despicable institution, but unless you're attacking specific bank accounts, it's always the most innocent patrons of the bank who take the brunt of the robbery. I never rob banks. I rob *bank accounts*. There's a difference."     He might look smug, behind his mask. "And besides, you can't even prove that I do that - anymore." He crosses his arms, and looks away. "As I said, even as a man without any real faith in external beings, I find this whole thing very - hm - mean. Designed to demoralize humanity on a fundamental level. That's generally why I believe this 'Michael' is a fraud. It's too perfectly poised to be a metaphysical gut-punch to supersititious believers. Too much appeal to the modern zeitgeist. I generally find that the Hebrews and Hermetics are more-" He thinks. "...Accurate in their depictions of the so-called hosts? If you can be said to be such a thing."
Natasha Cranston	"Do you know ''what'' they are looking for, if anything?" the Shadow asks. "Aside from his initial interviewed proclamation there's been little fact.}     A head tilt. "This... 'Champion' of his, miss Fairchild. Weren't you acquainted?"
Tim Drake	The move that Anarky pulls there, that should be considered cheating. There's no way Red Robin can turn down coffee. Not right now. So he mumbles something appreciative as he accepts the cup and takes a sip of the steaming liquid it contains.     He says nothing more about banks, but his eyes are probably narrowed behind the lenses of his domino.     "You'd be surprised. People flocked to serve the Archangel. I have theories about why but I think at this point they'd just seem mean-spirited." And this, of course, is an excellent time for Caitlin Fairchild to be mentioned. "Not as such," he says to the Shadow. "She is--or maybe was--a member of the Titans, but I can't say I know her all that well personally. So I can't say why she made the decisions that she did, only that we're going to do our best to get her away from Michael's influence." Though something doesn't quite ring true in the way he says that, and Red Robin turns away again, nursing the coffee Anarky provided him as he watches for more angel movement.
Lonnie Machin	"I wouldn't be. That's why this seems so precisely designed." Anarky says, before he shrugs, and the coffee is followed up by a field snack - whole grain oats with a tiny bit of honey and unsweetened cashew butter. It's actually not bad. Satisfying. If a little bland.     "But nobody asked for my opinion."
Natasha Cranston	The Shadow nods again. "Entirely possible," they reply to Lonnie. "Unfortuntely, their true nature is less acutely relevant than their current purpose."     Tim gets a nod as well. "Hopefully you'll have an opportunity to discuss her choices with her. You mentioned you believe they're looking for something, as opposed to merely patrolling?"
Tim Drake	It seems that Red Robin chooses precisely when the Shadow asks after what the angels are looking for, to shove the entirety of that field snack into his mouth. And given its composition, it's... going to be a little while before he's capable of answering.     Still, he's not quite able to pretend he isn't being deliberately shifty. Once he's managed to swallow, Red Robin shakes his head. He takes a steadying sip of coffee before he says, "I think it's best for all of us if I pretend I don't know what they're looking for. The Heavenly Host isn't above using torture to get information." His fingers clench around the cup. "It's also not my information to give."     He looks up at Anarky and then shakes his head, wordlessly.