OPEN | This is his equivalent of meeting at Starbies and the mall.

[mostdangerousbird]

Who: Tim Drake mostdangerousbird and Open
What: Some vigilante has to patrol the city. Maybe you're one of them.
When: Like 2 AM January 7th.
Where: Mid-rise rooftops, D'Amicos territory
Content Warnings: Violence is likely.



2 AM Lunch break

Hey, ya gotta eat. Tim's favorite late night Chinese food place (across the Central City General Hospital) is the unofficial hospital nightshift cafeteria. He can get anything there - turnip cakes, fries, egg rolls stuffed with pizza, or tonight, an Italian sausage on a bun. It's a weird spot, with a takeout window that makes you wait in an alley, but that works for him.

He's only in the alley 10 minutes, while he waits for his order, but he's oddly approachable as he sits on a pile of pallets texting. It's like an art project, "Vigilante, Paused."

Stake(out) for Dinner
When the greasy paper bag is handed over, the hero melts back into the shadow. He's already on the roof, racing a few buildings over before unwrapping the bag to settle in to watch through telescopic lenses while he munches.

He's only checking in on a longtime problem, as it's so close to his snack. Rook wasn't expecting the mob clubhouse to have so much activity at this time of night. Before he's done his sandwich, he's counted 8 arrivals, including a plain white box truck, and only two departures (who left in 1 black sedan).

In the morning, he'll check if Jason knows what might be going down. Robin's intervened with Red Hood and his rivals once, but as Rook, he's tried to stay out of it -

At least he hasn't lit any warehouses on fire -

Two more goons come out of the building. Pause at the doors to the truck's cargo. They open the door and examine the dark interior. Too far to make out any detail, but there's movement in the truck.

He'll have to get closer. Polishing off his sandwich, Tim folds the tin foil and bag down to a neat and tiny square. Tucks it away into his belt.

Comments

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Tim flashes an equally fleeting smirk back at him. It doesn't stick around, but it's the cue needed to slide into a more presentable version of himself. Like an actor fixing his face before walking onstage.

He elbows Kestrel in the side, none too gently. Gotta make sure he feels it through the armor. ]

Metaphorically you. I don't think I have it in me to be you. I'm not imposing enough to carry it off. That's a compliment.

[ Tim is never capable of running a crime significant. Too short, too hoity toity, too upfront about his education, too well-mannered, too chirpy - he's the bookie they all call Four Eyes or the Consigliere named Pretty Boy if he's lucky. He's not who they'd follow.

When the smile fades, Tim rubs at the side of his neck, where there's a newer scar half-tucked under his collar. A bullet wound that now hides a faded knife scare. ]

That... puts things in a different perspective. He came down hard on me when I got shot. I thought it was because me being hurt reminded him of you. I mean - I know it was I reminded him of you, but I thought it was because he had to take off the costume before taking me to the hospital. I - I think it was because it was a neck wound. Like it matters.

I don't know why I spend so much time trying to understand what he wants. There's no predictability behind what gets a good job, Robin or a hnh or no reaction at all. Save the universe, get a lecture about your new uniform.

[ He kinda suspects, though, if he separates the conversation from himself. If this were about anyone else... ]

I know what you're doing. This is how I talk to Bernard about his asshole parents, but that's different.

[reneger]

( tim's never going to be jason. just like jason can't pull off being dick grayson. jason's intentionally imposing; his size wasn't luck but a shitton of work. if he hadn't been thrown into that pit, he doubts he would've gotten much bigger than tim even if he'd managed to put on some of the weight. only so much one can do to combat years of eating scraps. but he knew what his purpose was when he returned from the grave. and tim's always fit significantly better into the role of robin than jason had: listens well when it's necessary, talks back when he knows it's not, smaller. better at playing into the role of sidekick, where jason's always been prone to outbursts and an inability to bend. he's too stubborn, too mouthy, there's too much alley kid in him. they've all got their strengths and weaknesses.

tim would never make it as a crime lord. a gun-touting batman with a stick up his ass in the future? possibly.

not that it matters much now. tim rubs at his neck, and jason's eyes focus on the edges of that knife wound, one he'd left. )

I'm not doing anything. ( eyes back up to tim's, even as jason slouches forward a little. ) This's the same shit he pulls on me, y'know. Sprinkles in contradictions with his rules, throws in a few compliments an' a lot of bitching. I've tried to get on his good side - he always finds something to get pissed off about. I can't get out from being the Robin who died. Either he looks at me like I'm a goddamn ghost, or like I'm the villain. Every once in a while he'll throw in a pat on the shoulder, a good job, son, before he goes back to yelling about how he made me, he'll unmake me. He's harder on us, on you, than he is anyone else. Grayson gets a pass sometimes 'cause he was the first. D does 'cause he's the youngest, his real son when he's getting particularly fed up with the rest of us.

( if jason sounds bitter, it's because he is. )

He shouldn't be lining us up, comparing injuries or whatever the hell else is going on through his mind. Or coming down on us at all for getting fucked up when he's the one who trained us to put ourselves in the line of fire. You're not me, I'm not you. But he still does, and it fucks up the rest of us. You can't give him what he wants.

[mostdangerousbird]

[ He's not letting Jason get away with being kind unacknowledged, even if he's drastically missed the mark.

Yeah, you are.

[ And it hits home, too. Because that feeling that he'll never quite live up to Dick? Yeah. It's still there sometimes. He's a hard act to follow, even with another performance in between. ]

It's not Dick's fault. He's a good person. He doesn't want the pedestal.

[ Tim's convinced that Dick would've created the Pennyworth Foundation from an anonymous donation if he could've, but Pennyworth would've given away the game. Rooms could be wallpapered with the articles about Young Master Bruce being left in the care of the family butler. (Given Jacob Kane's affilations, that was a prescient decision by Thomas and Martha Wayne).

Damian is left out of the defense. Robin's not as bad as he was. But in this context? It still stings. ]

The first time Bruce tried to adopt me, I didn't let him because I didn't want him to replace my dad. What an idiot, right?

[ Like it's funny, how Tim finally accepted the idea that they were a family and has chafed under Bruce's moods ever since. How his life gets upended every time Bruce gets off the rails because Bruce is this constant shadow touching every damn part of his life. He can't even go to a restaurant without Wayne coming into play or fucking Killer Moth showing up. ]

And he compares you to me? Why? Half the time, he acts like he forgot I'm still around. I never told him I moved out, you know. I just stopped going home. Kate has been over. He doesn't even have the boat bugged. You he remembers.

[reneger]

I know. Dick would give it up in a moment if he could without consequences.

( dick didn't ask to be the first of them. he didn't ask to become robin, nor did he ask for it to become a mantle that passed from kid to kid. hell, jason hadn't asked to become robin, either, but he wasn't passing up the opportunity either. to be something more meant the world to him. having that, being robin regardless of how short his time had been, still means everything to him. being robin had given him magic; it'd given him a family, a means to fight back. it'd given him everything he has now, because without bruce? jason's fairly certain he would have been just another dead kid in crime alley or worse - he would have grown up and become just like his old man.

and dick grayosn had made all of that possible. he'd become robin and left it, given jason something to strive towards when he'd put on the gear himself. none of the blame for all of their mess falls onto him. not that he's saying any of that to dick himself. shouldn't need to, dick knows.

jason tips his head back to press it against the truck. listens to the growling behind them. )

He remembers me 'cause he needs something to keep him angry. I don't think he always does either. I've fucked off and he never seemed to give a shit.

( they're all hugged out, so he doesn't offer one. just reaches out to shove tim over in return for the elbowing. )

Bruce is an asshole with impossible expectations. Trying to live up to them is just gonna make you bitter.

[mostdangerousbird]

[ But Tim asked for it. However he wanted to frame it to convince Bruce, Tim wanted the role. He didn't need a home - not when this all started. He'd had a family. It gave him something that was his, and he hadn't minded trying to live up to Jason and Dick. They had set the bars, and Tim liked the showy, loudness of being Robin. Liked the challenge of proving himself.

But then he wasn't 15 anymore, and it felt like he was never closer to meet expectations. ]

How can you tell? His face when he cares deeply is this.

[ Tim gets to his feet and looks down at Jason with a jutted jaw and flat mouth. ]

And when he'd rather you go live a normal life being a social worker in a West Coast city so he never has to deal with you again...

[ It's the same face.

After a second, Rook offers Kestrel a hand up. He wants to slide the conversation into safer ground and ignore the growing anxiety about what Jay will do with this knowledge. He'd like to feel relieved at the honesty, but he's already second-guessing himself. ]

[reneger]

( tim does his best bruce wayne impression, and it's enough to get a laugh out of jason - loud and obnoxious. they haven't been found yet, he doubts the d'amicos are anywhere close by at this point. rook offers a hand down, and he reaches up for it - using rook to pull himself up to his feet, too.

knows well enough that even if tim's on the smaller end, it's all lean muscle - so he doesn't pull his usual of technically taking someone else's hand but pulling his own weight up. tim can handle it. )

'cause I've gotten him pissed off enough to start screaming into my face about how he "should've never believed in me" and he was "a fool" for trusting me. There're nuances when you manage to find ways to piss him off that much.

[hackingyoursensors]

[ The side-door of the warehouse opens and shuts as a small shadow slips in carrying a large sack on its back. ]

Didn't realize I was interrupting a 'complaining about Bats' session.

[mostdangerousbird]

[ Jason outweighs Tim by enough that Tim has to lean back to put his body weight into hauling his brother to his feet. He’s trying to find a clever response that encapsulates every time B said he was a fool to depend on the League, or the GCPD, or anything that wasn’t himself - but the door opens, and Rook’s thoughtful expression sharpens and then relaxes at the familiar voice. ] There’s two of us in the same room. The discussion inevitably becomes a complaining about Bats session. [ No need to throw Jay a pointed look (like Wren wouldn’t clock it). No one’s going to recap the discussion for Dick. Rook smiles instead. ] Here to catch a tiger by the tail?

[reneger]

He's just so easy to pick on.

( gives all of them plenty of ammo to bitch about, at least. the look isn't needed; even without tim throwing it at him, jason knows better. once he's back up on his feet, jason clips the lower half of his mask to a belt loop, puts a hand on his hip while he looks to the bag he's assuming is to console their furry friends in the back of the truck. )

Your new pals have been yelling at us ever since we picked 'em up. The ride probably didn't soften 'em up any.

[hackingyoursensors]

[ With an amused grin: ] Nah, it's easier to catch a tiger with its stomach.

[ Dick just snorts. ]

With the way you drive? Not surprised.

[ Dick drops the large bag to reveal a bunch of raw packaged meat-- the best he could find at this time of night without leaving the city. ]

Food will definitely soften them up.

[ He digs out some metal trays and uses a knife to cut open the plastic around the meat. ]

What'd he do this time? [ Bruce, he means. ]