Tiny Talon Dick (Plus is an E N A B L E R)

[earlybird]

[ 'Stay. Inside,' Father had said. 'This isn't your concern.'

And no matter how much Damian had snarled back that it wasn't fair, that there wasn't any sense in barring him from patrol (it was just a boy, just another threat amongst many, what was so special about this one?), Bruce had left Alfred with strict orders to ensure that Damian stayed on lock-down while he left for the streets of Gotham.

Presumably to find that would-be assassin. The child from the Court of Owls. Although Damian wonders if there's anything about it that could be called a child anymore; wonders what might be behind that mask. Something about the voice, quiet and inflectionless as it'd been, declaring that the Waynes were its targets, had set Batman off, had frozen him solid.

Damian's fought the Court of Owls before. He's taken down one of the adult assassins - shot an arrow through its eye, and when that didn't work? Strung it up and beheaded it. Immortal though they were, the monsters could still die. He doesn't see what's so worrying about a pint-sized version of the same.

Pennyworth is being irritatingly clever for a butler, and unusually effective at keeping him caged. He's not falling for any of Damian's tricks, not this time, and both Redbird and Robin remain out of his access. The Cave is closed to him, and Damian's left to pace the boundaries of his room wearing nothing but a scowl and his satin pajamas (no suit, no daggers, no hooded cape), dinner ignored and left to grow cold as he presses his forehead against the chilly glass. Titus is more than happy to lay out in front of the fire, but as much as Damian hates the winters here, he wants to be out there. Fighting crime, throwing his frustration at whatever villain he can dig his fists into. The night is dark, almost inky, with thick, fat flakes of snow silently falling down; he can't even see the grounds through it, just glaring at his own reflection and the powdery puffs of white when they swirl close out of the pitch black.

Drake was allowed out tonight to attend his precious gala, with Cain accompanying him. Todd wasn't, but he left anyway. Smart enough to take off the second Pennyworth had swapped his focus to corralling Damian into his room before the butler tried the same move on him. Ridiculous. ]

Comments

[graysondive]

[By some miracle, Batman had allowed Richard to stay at the manor. They'd even let him stay in the room next to Damian's, even gotten him his own clothes, just like Damian had said. Sitting in school for hours at a time was something that was not only unappealing, but also dangerous, and Tim had also somehow agreed to teach him. But it was-- hard. Not that he expected it to be easy, and he was a fast learner, but it was frustrating. He'd never been good at reading and writing before, and his written English was sloppy and unused for-- two decades, technically. The only thing that didn't put him at a disadvantage for was math, and that subject clearly wasn't his forte either.

He talked a bit more-- was less and less feeling like he had to wait for permission, though still feared repercussion if he misspoke. After awhile, he'd even gone down to the Batcave to train with Batman (whom he was supposed to call Bruce, but the idea had never really stuck). Trying to teach him more forms of nonlethal combat, temper his current physical language, as if he'd ever it, because the only current threat he was facing was his predecessors and agents of the Court and nonlethal techniques would not be necessary against them.

That was another problem. Old habits died hard. They tried to explain it to him, but he just couldn't understand. Had always been told the Batman's way was pointless and weak, a grab for public approval simply so they wouldn't string him up the moment he appeared. He had killed people that were legitimately doing harm and wrong while he was under the Court's orders, even if they were cruel masters (which was another concept he was trying to come to terms with.) People that the Batman would have taken alive. It was a relief that Damian didn't understand it either, but it was a lot harder for Dick to just go along with it, if he now had the freedom to speak, the freedom to move.

And then there was still the matter of the Court's continued attempts to get him back. They were still attacking the people that had decided to take him away from them; that were trying to be so patient with him, trying to care for him even though they had no reason to, and he knew it must have been hard for them. They were all strong, and dangerously skilled, but the Court had numbers and tenacity, would cross lines they wouldn't cross, and they always got what they wanted. Eventually Richard would be dead for the new Talon's initiation, or he would have to kill the newest one that still had a properly beating heart so he could survive, and there was no guarantee the people that had been so kind to him wouldn't get caught in the crossfire or approve of either plan. No guarantee that his brother-- that Damian wouldn't get caught in the crossfire, because as skilled as he was, no one was impervious, and Richard was scared.

They were strong, but Richard knew enough about calculated risk, and this was one that was just unnecessary. If he wanted to start doing something good, he could start by removing his presence as a threat, so they could live in peace.

It was the beginning of March, before Haly's returned to Gotham, that seemed as fine a time to go as any. Relieve the Waynes of a burden, and avoid the family that had already left him behind. Maybe he'd go find the League of Assassins, like Damian had mentioned-- maybe he'd find his own way of tearing down the Court, to remove the problem. Then maybe he could come back and thank them properly.

Most people would sneak out in the middle of the night, but the night was the most dangerous. So it was the crack of morning, when those on patrol had collapsed to bed, and Alfred could finally join them. Sleeping in the room next to Damian's had once been a blessing but now it was a problem when, with his new winter coat, the escrimas on his waist and a packed up backpack slung over is shoulders, he had to try and sneak back the assassin and his dog's domain. A small chance of success, but even Damian had to sleep sometimes, and there was no point in not trying. With determination, he could outrun him, even if he did get caught, so he departed from his room with light and careful footsteps.

(He thought about leaving a note-- but he still didn't have much confidence in his writing skills. So all he'd done instead was drop the husk of his old, reclaimed Talon mask outside Damian's door, and let the yellow lenses catch the morning sunlight. A symbolic sort of gesture fit him better than trying to articulate-- at once stating the reason he had to go, but assuring that he would never go back to them. And he softly departed the hallway to make his way downstairs.)]

[earlybird]

[ He stirs awake at the sound of Titus whining from the foot of his bed. No alarm, no danger; as fast as his mind wakes up, he can let his body catch up a little slower this time, peering blearily against the early morning ray of sunshine that's somehow made it through a crack in his curtains. The mutt moves, toenails clacking against the floor as he circles around the side of the bed to nudge some unfamiliar object into Damian's hand.

He brings the thing up to his face, and frowns -- it's Richard's old mask, goggles gleaming in the light. Grunting, he shoves it back at Titus. ]

I don't want it.

[ Ugly thing. He much prefers Richard without it. But Titus whines again, nudges the mask up onto the bedspread, and Damian reaches out to shush him, running a palm along his head and scratching behind an ear.

He understands half an hour later. Titus is whining because there is an absence, and Damian's bursting from the caves like a bat out of hell, motorcycle revving as he slams down the street. Richard is damnably good at hiding his tracks, so there isn't much to go off of, but Damian has help this time; Oracle, scanning the city, watching exits and entrances and cameras and flights, facial recognition software chewing through the data.

It'd been risky, pulling her into this, but a greater risk not to. Gotham is still rife with danger, especially with threats from the Court and from his mother both, and Richard is out there alone. He's not Robin for this, not acting in Robin's capacity and therefore not subject to Batman's orders, and there's just a mask slapped over his face and a utility belt slung at his waist. Hopefully that will keep other attention off him.

Gordon pings him, HUD popping up with the notification, and his eyes narrow as he takes a sharp turn left, on the chase.

Richard, you ass. ]

[graysondive]

[He hasn't stopped moving since he left the manor-- kept to the shadows, climbed up onto the rooftops once he got to the busier part of the city. He didn't have much of a plan in mind when he'd left (he'd never really been on his own before), but he settled on heading for the trains leaving the city and hitching a ride. He'd be harder to find outside of Gotham city, and if the Court still pursued him it'd take them out of their comfort zone and increase the time between any potential attacks. Then he could figure out a more long term plan.

But Richard was smart enough to know when he was being followed, or at least suspect when there was trouble-- his ears perked to attention at the sound of the motorcycle roaring, turning down the street below him a few blocks up. Definitely too early for normal thugs to be out right now; there wasn't really anybody out to harass yet, though that'd probably start to change soon as people started their commutes.

He knows for sure it's not the Court at least, but even still he turns away from the street, jumping up to the next rooftop and pulling himself up and over, hiding behind the edge as he waited for the vehicle to pass.]

[earlybird]

[ Oracle's on him. Flashing through every camera she can, directing him closer and closer-- there, a shadow, left down this alley, Robin. His tires squeal through the tight turns and veering path, until Oracle's directions break off with a sigh.

Lost him. ]

Lost him?

[ It's almost a snarl. He's dead-ended, no leads on surveillance, and the engine hums, idle, as he rolls to a stop. It's been a while since he was out, solo, and the openness pricks at him in something like nervousness, if it hadn't been stamped out of him long ago. Dragging the helmet off, he swings off the bike, cutting the engine and parking it at the curb.

He's not usually out here during the day, either. Near-day. They do their work at night, when shadows offer better cover. His mouth twists, peering around, scanning the rooftops. ]

Last known location is in this area, though. Correct?

[ Correct. But he could have gone in any direction. He barks out a call, anyway: ]

Richard!

[graysondive]

[They lost him. Good.

He stays hidden, lets his nerves ease with relief but doesn't make a sound. But he does peak his head over the edge of the roof, watching carefully, while pressing himself into the shadow from a taller building across the street.

The call makes his throat feel dry, but he doesn't dare answer.

Instead, he lets himself pop up for a span of seconds, pulling back his arm and flinging it downwards with as much strength as his arms can muster, sending the almost fist-sized rock flying towards the exhaust pipe of Damian's motorcycle. Its not good enough to clog it, but perhaps enough to damage it, to distract, at least slow him down.

But the trajectory gives away his position, and he knows Damian's smart; so he ducks back down and takes off across the rooftop, hops over to the next building and makes a run for it.]

[earlybird]

[ The sharp ringing of distinct crunch of metal catches his attention -- his bike wobbles, topples from the force of the chunk of rock thrown sharply at the pipe, and he's taking an aborted step towards it in consternation before realization catches up with him.

He turns, instead, to the direction it came from, catching sight of the fleeing form. ]

I'm on him, Oracle! Sighted on the rooftops.

[ He's got another thing coming if he thinks he's going to escape Damian. The Robin scales the building with a quick shot of his grapnel gun, swinging himself up to the roof to hit the gravel running, darting after Dick as he leaps the gap between buildings.

And, when he has a clear shot and it's safe, he's quick to fling out a batarang, meant to knock Dick's legs out from under him. ]

Get back here this instant!

[ Better keep running, Dick, he sounds pissed. ]