Batman! ...again? | Open

[acrobatical]

Characters: Bat!Dick and you!
Date: Tonight (overlap into the start of the event)
Location: All Sectors, at differing times for each
Situation: He is darkness, he is the night -- and, yes, he is operating as a fully licensed Batman, TYVM.
Warnings/Rating: To be added as/if they arise

Dusk Until Midnight | Wood Sector
[The trees provide adequate cover where still the leaves cling and refute the pull of autumn's slow death. His grey and black blends within the shadows, lending a degree of stealth that is only heightened by years of practice.

Dick Grayson wears the cowl of Batman, prowling high above the illuminated streets to learn what he can of the late evening population. Eavesdropping is as effective as interrogation in the right circumstances and in a new city? Silent recon work is key.

He can be found between one and three stories off the ground, moving from branch to branch with effortless ease. His motion is mostly silent, only a stray leaf occasionally drifting down as show of his passing.]


The Midnight Hour Per-so-na | Metal Sector
[Here he feels more at home, the Metal Sector blending an aura of Metropolis, Gotham City, and Blüdhaven together to lend an odd sense of comfort. Dick rests on a ledge high above the streets, drawn back from the light of the shell as he silently catalogues his notes from the Wood Sector.

To the untrained eye, he is no more than a gargoyle sharped from an array of matte metals and bolted down to watch the kedan below. He crouches in such a way that the cape drapes over much of his body, allowing him to pull apart a small selection of sausage-stuffed pastries purchased under a civilian guise earlier that day. Every once in a while the heavy material parts and he lifts a piece to his mouth, chewing slowly as he considers the conundrum of this life, death, and dreaming that the kedan advertised Keeliai as.]


Midnight Until Dawn | Water Sector, Earth Sector
[The appearance of ghosts were what spurred him from his surveillance of Metal and midnight snack. That's... odd, and a possible clue to the nature of Keeliai, so it is only natural that Dick follow it, still clad and acting as the Batman he is back in Gotham.

He moves still in silence but, for the first time this early, early morning, he can be found working on the shell's surface in pursuing ghosts and conducting brief analyses of the areas that they seem to appear and disappear from. Samples are his focus, from prints to any substances that may lead into some conclusion about these weird ghosts.

There are times when some appear before him, but he does not jump. He regards them, takes note of their appearances and motion, then whispers a note into his audio log for later cataloguing. It's almost like he's seen his share of ghosts. Spoiler: He kind of has.]


The Pre-Dawn Hour | Fire Sector
[The first night's recon is completed and Dick is returning home, but he is employing a significant degree of caution by slipping into the Fire Sector and using the subtle lighting shift of the flames from the blue of night to the red of day to play havoc on eyes that try to follow him in the shadows.

Eventually, he will find an utterly private place to shed the uniform and return to being Dick Grayson, simple acrobat with a bag slung over his shoulder and exploring, but ultimately heading back to Wood Sector, where his suite is.

The choice is yours to encounter BatDick or, once the sun is up, Dick Grayson himself.]

Comments

this town ain't big enough for the two of us, son [Metal]

[cowled]

[Bruce knows this town inside and out. He damn well should - he's had three months to familiarize himself with it. For the Batman, that's more than enough time. He knows every street corner, every fountain, every gargoyle. Each brick, every flaw. The stonework and the mortar.

He knows it all because he has to. Because it's what he does.

And tonight something's different.

It's subtle. A shift in the air. An instinct. Maybe one of his well-placed microphones caught the suspicious almost-silent sound of silicone-soled boots, or maybe he's just Bruce Fucking Wayne and he deus-ex-machina'd the thought out of the ether but something is different.

And after a few hours of searching, he finds it.

He recognizes the figure. Of course, how could he do otherwise? They've been partners for so many years it would be criminal not to. He's known Dick now longer than he ever knew his parents. In some ways, this relationship has even been the more formative of the two.

But everything about Bruce is a test. A challenge. Which is why he comes up behind Dick and waits. Arms folded. Already counting the seconds.]

time for someone to retire then

[acrobatical]

[The audio doesn't pick it up, but Dick does. His circus days have always stayed with him and his spatial awareness is heightened. Critical. The trapeze is about timing, but it's also about knowing where the bar is, where the hands are. Timing does nothing for a grip that's an inch off, but knowing where that grip should go saved him from hitting the net dozens of times.

And it's been pretty useful in the vigilante scheme of things.

There's an integral usefulness to knowing where the thug is in addition to predicting where he will be. Some could say it's critical for survival. Maybe it is, because he's still alive after all this time.

Purposeful or not, that spatial awareness serves him now. He's aware of the presence within seconds, but he keeps his attention forwards and continues slowly chewing the last mouthful of this pastry. He bides his time, focusing and assessing on the presence.

What is it? It's quiet, for one thing. It's patient, because the seconds tick into minutes without motion, without audible breathing or restless shifting. It waits too long to be a villain -- they like to kidnap vigilantes or monologue, not stare at them creepily. Okay, Slade maybe, but he's a different cut from the rest and he didn't see a single sign of him on the consoles in the five hours of hardcore reviewing he'd done. And the chances of it being an innocent bystander or slim to none this high up. It'd be a jumper if it was and their breathing would give them away.

Okay. So he has a ninja up here with him. No big deal. He's dealt with plenty thanks to Ra's. Except, there's only one and Dick is used to seeing them in numbers.

That narrows it down further, allying reason with his initial instinct that it's one of the breed up here with him. One of the clan that takes up the bat or the bird as their insignia. One of the number he's seen through the consoles, reassuring him that he's not the only one in demi-purgatory here.

Dick is certain of it and a smile breaks the solemn features of the Batman. He doesn't shift, doesn't even look. Yes, there's a batarang in his hand already -- has been from the moment he sensed the presence -- but it's still under the cape. He doesn't put it away quite yet, just in case.]

Eighty-nine seconds ago. You moved in from my right when I scanned left. [He chuckles.] Smart move, but you're still busted.

[His words are easy because he's not entirely certain who this is. Too big to be Damian, that's for certain, but he's not familiar enough with the space to get a proper measure of body size beyond adult.]

[cowled]

Your time's off.

[By about an eighth of a second. Normally it would be a situation of 'who's counting?' but the answer is Bruce. Always.

Something of the tension he's carried with him since arriving here eases. Dick's presence is hardly a panacea, but it's something. It's more than he'd dared to hope for. And he's from-- after. Dick will have categorized the possibility of his identity and really, there's only one answer. Who else would occupy so much space and move so quietly and not be trying to kill him?

The fact that Dick didn't immediately turn to face him tells Bruce that his being back is no surprise to his first Robin. Past his own time again, but still wearing the cowl. One possibility.

Batman: Incorporated.

He'd planned for it. And the only circumstance in which he'd ask Dick to keep the cowl Bruce knows he hates is if he'd decided ultimately to go forward with it. Shining light into the cobweb corners of the legacy he's fought to maintain for fifteen years.

He wonders very briefly if the reason Dick doesn't bother turning around is because he's angry about it.

This is the first time he's spoken directly to his eldest since returning from the somewhat exaggerated situation of his death. He'd observed him, yes. Watched the way he and Damian worked together. He'd passed judgement on the way Dick operated. How he'd spent the prior year operating. And that judgement still stands here and now.]

[acrobatical]

[Your time's off. Three words that are so typically Bruce that he's tempted to fall back on the quip of a Robin or the defiance of a Nightwing to chime off: Yeah, maybe by about an eighth of a second. A sullen retort, born out of a rocky history and sustained through fragile bridges that shuddered every time they tried to cross into safe, comfortable territory.

It all seems so immature now. Like the bitterness had stunted them both for years on end, kept them from really being good for each other, rather than just a good influence.

Funny. The idea pulls at his lips, lifting the corners up against the sad memories of loss that finally washed that all away. Dick remembers feeling lost and tired, giving his two hundred percent so that he couldn't linger on all the bad times. All the things they never should have said. All the wrong that threatened him with guilt. Guilt. How heavy that had been, exceeding the awkward weight of the cape and pulling at him no matter how he crawled away from it.

But, no. Bruce is alive. Bruce is back and, in truth, Bruce is here telling him that he needs to do it better, only he's not the same Dick Grayson as before. He doesn't take it as insult, just a reinforcement of old things. Who knew that he'd want those corrections? That frustrating inability to measure up? That bar forever out of his grasp -- but one that he could work towards, going ever higher.

He's thankful for it, but in ways that barely show. In the way that he still wears the cowl, no matter that he misses the mask every time he has to rely on audio in the cowl over his human ears to catch that whisper of sound. He's thankful, because he's been given a second chance with his mentor, instead of left with a crazed clone and an empty cave.

Dick shifts, moving back from the ledge and rising to the full, foreboding height of Batman. He turns and sees Bruce -- still inches taller than he is -- wearing a different brand of the costume. It looks...]

Picked up the wrong Batsuit at the cleaners?

[His words are still light and he measures in the smart alec tone like its a precious substance. How much is too much? Some days, it's hard to tell.]

Reinforced silk and a domino mask. [He makes the comment as he assesses this other Batman. The original Batman, but very much dressed outside the norm.] That's quite the fashion statement.

[Wood]

[hackingyoursensors]

[There's a small shadow dashing from rooftop to rooftop. It's hard to see except for the brief moments when the shell's glow illuminates a small figure in a cape. Most people wouldn't pay the small shadow much mind. He disappears so quickly that he could easily be mistaken for a trick of the light or (ironically) a large bird.

But he can easily be seen by a Bat.]

[Wood]

[acrobatical]

[Especially a Bat that came from such similar roots. Dick catches sight of the Robin -- Tim? It flashes through his mind, the colours wrong to be himself, Jason, or Damian.

In any case, it's an ally and he moves after Robin, taking an even higher route. The grappling line helps, but the Batsuit has a gliding cape built in and he uses that to cover distances a little too far for even a world-class acrobat.

It occurs to him that he's seen another on the network that reminds him of, well. Him. He's seen him talking with plenty of people. This Robin's got about the same build, but he won't jump to conclusions. After all, he's the original Dick Grayson and can attest to that.

He waits until the moon is dimmed by a cloud, dropping down from on high to a roof separate from the trees. He takes a few steps to help slow his momentum, but his eyes are on the shadows he last saw the little bird duck into.]

Robin.

[Simple. A greeting rather than a command, because his cave isn't run on the same protocols as Bruce's more iron fist.]

[Wood]

[hackingyoursensors]

[He is, of course, sticking to the shadows. The voice is... unfamiliar. Especially that voice coming from someone wearing a Batsuit. You'd better believe he's on the defensive, Batarangs ready to fly if this guy turns out to be a threat.]

You know, Batman isn't going to be happy when he sees you impersonating him.

Water Sector, so late it's early o'clock

[littlecousin]

[After the fifth unsecured item (two potted plants, a deck chair, a single shoe, and finally, randomly, a frying pan) goes flying into the pool, Nita has had it, and she rockets out of the water, cranky enough to declare war on New York if anyone so much as at her wrong. The poltergeists will. Not. Stop. She is ready to choke a ghost to death, if that were a thing one could do, but instead she makes a strangled noise of frustration and stomps out of the yard and into the public square abutting her particular block of apartments.

Even if she weren't a particularly hard target, the Water Sector kedan are a mellow lot, and Nita feels safe sleeping in public. Her burns are still healing, and submersion is the best thing for them, so she ignores several perfectly nice benches and instead marches grumbling to the fountain in the center of the square.

It's perhaps not the most logical decision Nita's ever made, but she's tired, and she flops into the water, muttering to herself about exorcisms. She'll see if she can crash at a less infested location after the sun rises, but no point waking up her friends and making two people lose sleep.]

Batrescue Heroes time!

[acrobatical]

[The trouble with ghosts is that they come from somewhere and that is an issue at the forefront of his mind as Dick works his way through the Water Sector. None of the apparitions appear decayed, suggesting recent demise or an intensity of purpose. His inner optimist prefers to think the latter. His inner Batmanist knows to brace himself for the former.

That's why he doesn't hesitate when he sees her body lying in the water. Focused on the risks of ghosts and the idea of bodies, he reacts by running towards the fountain and leaping in to grab at her. He's not sure how long she's been under, but the fact that the ground around the fountain's dry worries him about a lack of struggle -- or a delay of discovery.

His mouth is set in a hard line and he refuses to give up on the idea that she might be alive as he tries to grab her and haul her out of the water.]

[littlecousin]

[Oh, Dick. Nita is so very alive, as becomes obvious when her eyes snap open, full of the unfocused rage of the sleep-deprived, and her fist shoots out reflexively to make whoever's bothering her stop. It's not a well-aimed blow, since she's still about half asleep, which is a good thing, given how hard she hits when she does connect.

Congratulations, hero. Your rescuee just tried to deck you, and now is sitting up in the fountain, dripping and yelling at you.]

Kamuu's ghost! What do I have to do to get some sleep around he--King T'challa?

[She breaks off her tirade and squints. Dick's backlit from the shell glowing behind him and she can't make out the colors clearly.

What? It's the ears on the cowl.]

[Fire]

[plains_hunter]

[Catman is a bit of a night-owl...night-cat, himself. He isn't really out looking for anything in particular, he just needed to get OUT of that apartment of his and get the lay of the land at night. Cities could look very different in the sunlight and moonlight, which wasn't good when you had an emergency and needed to move fast.

When he sees this Batman, it's entirely by chance. He just happens to be finishing his climb onto the roof of a building, when he catches him moving by. He can't resist a small comment.]

Well, I'll be damned. A world away, and the city is still infested with bats. At least you're staying active.

[Fire]

[acrobatical]

[There's too much familiarity in that statement to come from any but someone that's, in the very least, spent time in Gotham. Dick pauses for that alone, but he doesn't turn quite yet. He gives a backwards glance, holding his head in a profile view as a grin creeps at his lips.]

Crime doesn't rest, so why should I?

[His voice isn't as deep as the original Batman's, but it's still low and gravelly -- the standard aural disguise.]

Re: [Fire]

[plains_hunter]

What, no snide comment? No condescending tone in your voice? I don't recall us parting on the best of terms, the last time.

[He casually shoves his hands into his pockets as he approaches, casting his glance toward the sky.]

Could it be that the Bat can actually NOT be an asshole, at times?

→ Earth

[controlledvariable]

[Ghosts are - kind of new to Steph, honestly.

Her most memorable experience with one was Greta - Secret - whatever, and that involved her thinking she was going to get killed because some girl wanted Tim for himself. Which was ridiculous, and the reason Steph kept her distance from Young Justice after that.

The ghosts that have started appearing seem much less inclined to try to fling her off a roof, but she's still taken to the streets in order to investigate them a little more.

She's up on a rooftop when she spots Batman on the street below, which seems perfectly normal until she realizes that Bruce doesn't have the proper Batman suit here. It gives her a moment's pause, but after she takes a better look at him, his build, the way he holds himself, she's fairly confident that it's Dick under there.

So she jumps down, landing a decent distance behind him, just loud enough that he'll have heard it. She's not trying to sneak up on him, afterall, she just wants him to know she's there.

She's... still not sure how her and Dick are supposed to feel about each other, but that won't stop her from talking to him, especially not when they're all stuck on the turtle.]

[acrobatical]

[Even for ghosts, the lack of evidence borders on ridiculous -- all the while challenging the scientific position that the dead should not be able to do this. Luckily, he's been doing the vigilante thing long enough that he can suspend the science, but not so much that vague sense of frustration from finding nothing to even supernaturally explain it.

Which is why he almost welcomes the interruption of a landing. It's far -- far enough that he can't get a gauge of size. He gets the feeling that the sound was the bare minimum meant to alert him, so that's a dud on matching audio to impact to come up with an idea of the arrival.

Guess that left him with the good ol' visual assessment. A bit low tech, but Bruce (hopefully) isn't watching and so he feels no shame in standing up and shifting to a three-quarters profile to see--]

Batgirl.

[He uses the title, though it'll never not sound different than when it fit Babs -- or even Cass. Stephanie tries. Dick knows she tries and there's so much improvement that it almost hurts to see, but the Batgirl shoes are as hard to fill as a Robin and that, no matter how he tries, colours his perceptions at times.

His voice, at least, is not harsh. It's not judgmental. It's more a careful neutral, because with ghosts in the air, this could be something playing with his senses. A ghost of Batgirl past? Just his luck.]

[controlledvariable]

Hi. [She smiles, an easy, friendly gesture that fits Batgirl well enough, and takes a few steps closer now that he's aware of her presence.

Her posture is loose, hands resting on her belt the same way they could be shoved into pockets, if she had them. She wonders if he's from before or after she kind of saved his life from Roulette's show. She wonders if that would really change anything.

Maybe this was a bad idea. She could have just gone on her way, waited to see him as Dick instead of Batman. It might've been simpler than trying to decide how to deal with this right now.

But that would have been the easy way out, and if nothing else, Steph knows how to barrel her way through conversations like everything is perfectly normal]

Welcome to Keeliai. I hope you didn't bring the ghosts with you.

Fire.

[demon_brat]

[Especially with the new apparitions? Damian stuck to his own sector tonight. Not like there isn't enough work, there. So the night was full - and then his suite brings no peace, a loud banging keeping him from focusing to research or sleep.

So he grabs a mask and neutral clothing (if not the full costume) and heads back out. Maybe heading to Wood, for a little more peace...

When the familiar shadow flits across his peripheral vision over the rooftops. Suddenly, all thoughts of sleep are forgotten. If Batman's here... Well. One thing for Robin to do, following quickly to see what the problem is.

It takes him longer than he would admit to realize it's not Father. Because he doesn't expect it, not tonight, and because he's tired. But then he does, the different way of moving, familiar like his own shadow by now, adds to a glimpse of the two spikes of his gauntlet, and suddenly he's not following - he's rushing to catch up. Just like that, all traces of tiredness are gone, and he's almost smiling. A little.]

/keysmash BABBY BIRD OMG SO FEELS

[acrobatical]

[There's a pitter-patter of little feet behind him.

It's not a sound in the conventional sense, but a presence. A familiarity that comes from too many nights spent beating the rooftops. Too many dusks greeted and too many dawns seen. Hundreds of criminals brought to task together. Dozens of plots foiled. All that time has given him a feel for his Robin and that identifies Damian long befor the yellow, green, and red of his outfit can be caught in a quick peripheral check.

He's being chased. That makes him smile, brief and genuine, before he picks up his pace and ducks around a corner, then grapples up to the next level. In part, it's to get privacy. In part, it's to have a bit of a race with his protègè -- because he will always be of the opinion that there's no reason they can't have a little bit of fun in what they do.]

BIG WING OHMY HOW DO HAPPY?

[demon_brat]

[It is Grayson. And Grayson knows he's there, the change of pace could only mean that. Knows that he's not a foe - Batman doesn't run away, when chased, neither Batman does and Damian knows that much. So he almost allows himself an exasperated sigh, and a silent Grayson! echoes in his mind. Always with the games, as though what they're doing isn't serious, dangerous, important.

But Damian has to admit that some of that is... pleasant to relax into. A familiar chase in a new setting. A thrill that adds to the ease that the man's presence somehow brought to him, an ease that even Father - or even getting to talk to and work with Father - didn't manage. Ohhh but he doesn't want to let him out of his sight, right now. At all.

Which is why he curbs that reaction, tries to estimate which way Grayson is moving, and then takes a slight shortcut. This city is no longer strange and new to him.

Yes, he'll try to get a drop on Batman.]

[wholenewstory]

[Cassandra is wandering through Earth Sector in her simple black costume, lower face obscured. She's not prowling or stalking, at the moment; in fact, she looks almost entranced, though it would be dangerous to mistake that for distracted. (It's happened once. He's tied upside down to one of the sculptures.)

She's following the spirits.

That's what they seem to be, anyway. Echoes of life, going through the motions. It's - fascinating, is the word Barbara would use. They move like people, but they're so clearly not, not any more.

She catches a glimpse of movement on a rooftop, as another fades away. She follows it immediately, because that usually means someone else is on the job, and it's good to know who.

She wasn't expecting another Batman.]

[acrobatical]

[Much as this Batman wasn't quite expecting the shadow that has caught onto him. He senses the motion after a few rooftops and then runs a few others to see if it follows.

It does and that gives him a few options, the most basic of which is the conclusion that he's being followed. The sheer brilliance of that deduction is amazing, yes, but it's how to deal with it that he needs to focus on.

Nightwing might have tried to doubleback and shadow his new shadow, but the fun and games of those days were not always a liberty of Batman. Dick sometimes has to remind himself of that, such as now.

The reminder takes the form of his stopping at the very edge of the roof, cape furling about him as he turns to look for the tail, hoping to catch this person in a dash across the roof to keep up before he might have leapt off to the next space.]

PRE-DAWN PLAIN OLD GRAYSON OR PRE-DAWN BATMAN YOUR CHOICE

[daughterofelysium]

[Triela is chasing a ghost. It's one from the turtle's head. A kedan whose throat got cut. The one that died before Signore Barton - and she wants to know why it didn't come back. Why Barton did and it didn't. It smells like blood and has tears on its face, and it won't stop moving long enough for her to catch up.

Somehow she can't. No matter how fast she goes or how easy the path is, it always stays at a distance.]

Some time soon after midnight, Metal Sector

[whatfriendsdo]

[Murphy is stalking the streets of Keeliai, wishing she paid more attention to Harry when he talked about ghosts. They were pretty firmly filed under "things you can do nothing about", and therefore also firmly filed under "shit Harry gets to deal with".

A little, annoying, stupid, wrong part of herself thinks, if you had the Sword you could do something.

She flinches as a vacant-faced ghost walks through her.] I'm about ready to pack a shotgun with rock salt and see if that helps after all.

[Of course, that requires a shotgun to begin with.]

Fire Sector, Pre-Dawn

[usavatar]

[Steve has been balancing above the streets of the Fire Sector for approximately an hour and a half, staying as still as possible in a one-armed handstand and watching the streets below. There's plenty to see, between the ghosts, the early morning shoppers, the stores opening for the day or closing for the night.

He's not exactly being subtle. He's wearing the suit Steph made for him, red, white, and obvious, a declaration to the shadows below that this particular area is under his protection.

5400.

With a soft grunt he switches arms, pushing up into a bounce and slapping his fresh hand down in precisely the same place as the first. He clasps his other hand against the small of his back and goes back to studying the street with a meditative focus, taking it all in as he starts to silently count out seconds in the background. It's an exercise in discipline, this time. Discipline and multilevel focus.]

[acrobatical]

[The sight of the American flag in human form catches his attention as he eases off the night patrol and its positioning on a rooftop makes it best for Batman and not Dick Grayson to make the approach. Experience tells him that fewer questions are asked of masked vigilantes on rooftops than average Joes and he runs with that experience here.

He approaches in a line of sight, impressed by and cautious about the show of strength and balance it takes to do and hold a one-armed handstand. He's done his fair share, but usually as part of a move set because he's about flexibility and motion over sheer force.]

Odd place for calisthenics, citizen.

[He goes for the formal on that one, his Batman voice a few degrees off the sandpaper and darkness tones that Bruce strives for.]