[open] everything's not awesome

Entry tags:

!ic,
!log

[open] everything's not awesome

Who: Tim Drake and OPEN
Where: All around The City
When: Throughout the event
What: Out and about. The life of the small time Resistance.

There are plenty of people in the Resistance who plan big actions and major raids, and who do their best to vex the government at every turn, but that's not really Tim's thing. Oh, he'll tangle with the government enforcers when he has to--he's never really been afraid of a fight. Not when he was Robin as a kid, and not now that he's an adult. But that's not what he does most days. Most of the time... it's a lot like being Robin... and not. He sees trouble and he helps, but patrols are a little different than they used to be, back in Gotham. Then, it was dealing with bad guys and supervillains. Now, it tends to look a little more like grocery runs for Resistance bases and members who can't show their faces in public anymore. Dropping stacks of The Speeding Bulletin in places where it can be easily and anonymously accessed by the public. Leading enforcers on a merry chase to keep them from looking too hard at people who need more time to escape (his ability to blink from one place to another has been really helpful in that). It's small time stuff, but that's never really bothered him. Someone needs to do it, and it might as well be him.

[Tim can be found all over, running errands or dropping off zines, or being a nuisance to the enforcers. Do you need groceries? He's your guy! Need a distraction? Sure! Government type looking for a fight? Bring it on. Want something else? PM me or hit me up at

nutterzoi I'm felxible!]

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When Barbara became Oracle full time, she closed certain parts of herself for good - or, at least, that was the plan. Tim Drake was a span in the works back home, too.

This one is different, of course, but he's still sly and brave and stubborn; he's still Robin, costume or not. She looks at him and her heart aches for the home she's given up going back to, for the family they couldn't save, for the woman she used to be, who could have been the mentor he deserves.

He's one of the few people she allows into her actual control rooms. One of the few who knows she pilots Aegis, because trying to hide it from someone who'd known Batgirl just felt silly.

She'd sent him to find (scavenge, steal) parts for the mech, knowing he'd probably run into trouble. She keeps herself busy while she waits for him, monitoring screens and tinkering with weapons.

Some people talk about strange bedfellows, but honestly, despite a little weirdness at first, Bart and Tim had settled in to a pretty decent partnership. Bart staying on the inside while Tim lurked.

Which is why they're on a rooftop with no camera coverage to catch up.

"So, please tell me you brought snacks..." he couldn't help it, even as he handed over a flash drive with what he'd gathered since their last meeting. "The office is terrible at catering.
I'd complain, but they don't listen to peons."

Tim takes the flash drive (get it? flash?) and tucks it into a pocket before reaching into his bag to pull out a paper grocery bag. "Like I'd forget?" The bag has plenty of junk food (who doesn't want a ton of gummi bears and twinkies?) but also some more substantial snacks. Sugar is great and all, but Bart's metabolism needs more than that, and he's pretty sure that whatever protein bars the government is handing out probably taste like cardboard. He reaches in to grab one of the bags of gummi bears and passes the rest of the bag to Bart.

"Reason number nine hundred and fifty three why we have to over throw the establishment. Put someone in charge who has good taste."

"Thank the gods," Bart says, grabbing something with far too many carbs for anyone who doesn't have a supermetabolism and wolfing it down. "If he were here, I'd totally nominate Alfie, but even if we could control the Porters, I'm not kidnapping him just because we need someone who's got mad organizing skills and the ability to produce baked goods for any occasion."

It's not something he complains about, any more than he's going to begrudge Timmy stealing back a bag of gummies. The theft is practically another ritual by now.

"Also, that count seems a little low. Weren't we in the ten-thousands last week? Or is that an early rule? There's so many even I don't really keep track."

Tim doesn't mind the errand--he likes an excuse to visit Barbara where she has to let him in (it's not like he can just leave the parts outside the front door or something, who knows what might happen to them?). He's managed to check off his entire mech parts shopping list, so when he comes back, he's got an extremely full backpack, and a smug expression on his face.

He knocks at the door, then smiles for the camera. "It's me. Your favorite errand boy."

"Favourite is pushing it." It's a bald-faced lie, and Tim damn well knows it, but she delivers it with a straight face as the door slides open and she wheels round to face him. "Run into any trouble?"

Her gaze is probing, analysing for any hint of injury.

"I miss Alfred." It's practically rote at this point--he says it just about every time Bart mentions the man, but that doesn't make it any less true. He does miss Alfred, and not just for his ability to cook. This were always just better when he was around.

He snickers. "At least," he agrees. "But I'm almost positive we've made the complaint before, so I had to refer to a previous number. I'm probably right."

"Of course you're right. You're Robin." Except for the part where he isn't, really. Robin is the wrong cape to wear for this place. Just like Bart doesn't wear the scarlet speedster getup, even if he still uses the name.

"I really don't like what I'm hearing from the labs. My favorite physicist is getting a lot of pressure for results on her little rainbow bridge project. Even caught a glimpse of Mr. Feathers himself when I was bugging out."

Bart has managed to make a name with a lot of researchers in a lot of departments for dropping by randomly with much-needed coffee and snacks, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't get noticed for it. Luckily they seem to think he's too scatterbrained to be a danger, and what they don't know will be used to hurt them badly in the future.

"We've made a lot of complaints, Timbo. I'm looking forward to the day when we can start a new list that doesn't reference the Evil Overlord one."

He raises hie eyebrows a little, smirking at her. He knows it's not pushing it. He's definitely her favorite errand boy. Probably her favorite Batboy these days, too, considering the alternatives, but who wants to talk about things they're sad about? Not him.

"Do I ever?" he asks. Pauses. "Don't answer that." They both know he's had more than a few close calls, but it's not like that's ever going to stop him. In any case, this time, he's fine. Barely even a close call.

Avoidance and repression may not be healthy, but it certainly contributes to him being her favourite.

"And here I was about to print out the list." She makes a show of examining her printer before shaking her head. "No, I don't have enough paper." The flat sarcasm is still more than most people get. At least she has a twinkle in her eyes, just for a moment.

She gestures for him to hand over the pack. "Got everything, huh?" Yes, she's impressed. Yes, she'll let her tone acknowledge that and nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees. "Maybe the fact that the Porter is working again will shift the balance. It's definitely shaking things up. I haven;t seen this much activity around in... What, six years now?"

He lets the Robin comment go unremarked. Neither of them have been 'superheroes' the way they used to be in a long time. For a lot of reasons. Most of them good ones. It still sucks.

"What's going on in the labs? Everyone okay?" He doesn't actually know any of the people there, but Bart has told him enough about them and the ones he likes that Tim it at least a little invested in what happens to them.

"Hey, I'm just a fun loving lad. Is it my fault the government made fun illegal? It is not. So really, if you think about it, it's them that have trouble with me, not the other way around." He shrugs out of the backpack and brings it over to her. "And there's a couple of bags of coffee in there, because you're my favorite, too."

"Close enough to that, yeah," Bart said.

"Mostly it's more pressure for results, which is going to break people if they aren't careful. At the very least, it's going to result in sloppy science that says whatever top brass wants to hear instead of anything close to reality. I'm worried about what might come out if they really start seeing the cracks in the system."

They didn't have many people in the labs that were undermining things, but it was one of the easier places for intelligence to sneak out.

"I think there's some contingencies to keep people safe, but I can't very well ask. As I told Rainbow Brite, I'm the one responsible for being the squeaky wheel and to keep her head down." Dr. Foster didn't really like the nickname, but it worked for indirect reference.

"You make a compelling argument, I'll put that in the file."

Damn, that draws the soft, warm kind of smile. Just a for a second. Fortunately, it's mostly hidden by the bag.

"You can stay for a cup, if you want. After I organise all this."

Mostly hidden, but not totally hidden, and Tim counts it as a win every time he can get her to smile just like she's still a real person and not just the mind behind all of the work she does. It's important work, definitely, but so is being a person.

But he can be magnanimous in his victory, and he just grins back at her. "Sure. I can even help organize this stuff if you want. I'm no genius mech pilot, but I guess I can follow directions." He pauses, then shrugs a little, still grinning. "Mostly."

He nods. It's good that the people who need it have a backup plan, but it's not so good that it looks like they might actually need it. And speaking of.

"What about you? You have a contingency in case they get tired of listening to you squeak?" He asks the question casually, but underneath that he is genuinely concerned. He and Bart asre friends. It matters what happens to him.

"I don't know, how does a Flash-mob reenactment of the Thriller Zombie Walk sound on my way out?" Flash-mob. He can do that for a short period of time without too much exhaustion.

"My boss is convinced that the two brain cells I have are totally occupied with running my mouth and my feet, respectively. It's probably not going to be an issue. An alternate future version of me managed to spy on a Batman!Tim and Superman!Kon without them noticing, so I suspect I might be able to pull this off. But I expect I can blow through security before it fully arms, and they tend to overlook the things on my powers file I don't regularly show off like vibrating through stuff."

He hopes he'll see it coming, at least. Although there are a handful of the enforcer types who would be able to take him down as hard as needed if they caught him off-guard. Whether reprogramming would stick is anyone's guess.

Edited 2020-02-01 02:49 (UTC)

"Sounds pretty cool," Tim admits. "Like something that would be worth getting some video of. Not that it would be a good idea for someone like me to be there for it, but I bet it would be amazing on YouTube. Your hits would be through the roof." And the rest of his plan sounds good too, not that he needs Tim's approval or anything.

"So what else have you been up to?"

"Oh, mostly the usual. Care and feeding of the resident geniuses, morale-boosting hijinks, nothing too big."

Bart would love to get that on video, but chances are if he had to do that, he'd be a little busy.

"Trying to get as many security codes and passwords as possible..." He might have a better chance of getting past some of the locks on his way out if he has the right person's badge. Most places still don't have biometric security on the major entry points.

He looks even younger, when he does that. God, she wishes he hadn't grown into adulthood here.

"Mostly, up until you interpret stay quiet and don't bring any attention to yourself as kick a cop in the shin." There, she's scolding, that's nice and comfortable. Even if there's a gleam in her eye that says she doesn't entirely disapprove.

She closes the bag and turns her chair, gesturing for him to follow along. "Don't touch anything. Or push any buttons." She tells him this every time, just to make sure.

Don't worry, Barbara. This is the good ending.

"It's a valid interpretation," he says virtuously as he follows. "Besides, as a former juvenile delinquent, I think I am pretty much obligated to kick cops in the shins when I meet them. If you think about it, it would be more attention-drawing if I didn't kick him in the shin."

He keeps his hands to himself as they go through, smiling a little at the reminder. Not as necessary as it once was, but the ritual of it is comforting.

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[open] everything's not awesome

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