15017/Herding Bats

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Herding Bats
Date of Scene: 01 May 2023
Location: Batcave - Wayne Manor
Synopsis: Dick and Bruce touch base in the Batcave.
Cast of Characters: Nightwing, Batman




Nightwing has posed:
    The nights had been long of late, a little longer at the least. Running from the time the sun set until the wee hours, Dick Grayson had been putting his nose to the proverbial grindstone and keeping busy. The comms system likely had a good amount of data, the increased work load, the independent contractors brought on in. Or, at the least, Black Canary and Zatanna. They had been put into the rotation, working with some of the other bats.
    All in all it had been a steady two weeks. Which... was going to just get more rough since Nightwing's vacation from the force? Had just run out. Then with the shift of some resources it also exposed some other issues. Like maintenance of some of the satellite Bat Caves.
    Which was what brought him here tonight, just as the sun was creeping up over the horizon. Just as this day in the war was coming to a close.
    The alarm systems for the Bat Cave announced the approach of one of the motorcycles that Nightwing or Cass or Babs at times use for quick transit across the city. The computer likely flashed the data of the young vigilante's arrival. When the motorcycle rolled to a halt, the clamps of the rotating platform locked down on the wheels as it slowly started to rotate the vehicle for the next launch. It was then that Dick slid off the seat, pulling the helmet free and started the walk across the metal gantry-ways toward the central portion of the cave.
Batman has posed:
In this instance, it appears Nightwing is not the only one burning the proverbial midnight oil; an anachronistic metaphor when, of course, most of Gotham has electricity. The Dark Knight is seated before not a monitor, but an entire array of monitors clustered on an adjustable frame around a central, larger display.

Just now he seems to be compiling footage from a wide array of CCTV systems throughout the city-- and more than one satellite imaging from orbit. An overlay adds and removes incidents from GCPD's database-- and the Batman's own-- as the seams between the data vanish under the precise ministrations of advanced supercomputed algorithms. Currently, the cape and cowl rest on a nearby stand, and Bruce works in the core customized sneaksuit, sans gloves.

Here and there a keystroke or a gesture to a motion control adds his input to the process, and when Dick's cycle roars in, the currently not-so-Caped Crusader barely even looks up. If it weren't one of his allies riding one of his fleet, the biometric scanners and intrusion countermeasures would have triggered some time before he even heard that engine. By the still slightly steaming, sipped cup of coffee next to his workstation, Alfred has been looking after the tireless crusader, at least.

"Dick." When Bruce looked to confirm that is still up in the air; it's just as likely the screens in front of him told him, instead. "Any news on the Joker?" No, the first question the Dark Knight has for eldest protege has nothing to do with the logistical demands put on the operations network. It's Bruce's voice, rather than Batman's, that speaks to him-- but in the tired, simple frankness, there's little more to discern about the man's deeper mood or humor regardless.
Nightwing has posed:
    There's a slight hitch in the younger man's step. A slight pause that most wouldn't notice. The smallest hint that Nightwing wasn't expecting the man here or to be spending his evenings focused on a task like this. He clears his throat slightly, and when his name is hurled his direction he lifts his chin.
    "Bruce."
    The young man draws to a halt, six feet to the side and a bit behind. His reflection in some of those monitors showing his profile, the domino mask had been pocketed as he had walked across the distance and then held step right there.
    It's curious how quick they fall into that easy pattern. Data requested. Data given. "I had a VIN number, ran it up, dead end. Forgery. Barbara did some cross-references for possible other connections by make, model, year, and close approximations of the VIN but none pulled anything up. Likely data deleted."
    Which has him pausing. The tendons in his jaw bunch slightly. Then he clears his throat.
    "I was just..." He motions with one kevlar and leather gauntlet to the side, "Going to grab one of the multi-tool battery repair kits."
    A beat.
    "Then I'll be out of your hair." Pointedly... not talking. Really.
Batman has posed:
With the information offered, Bruce taps several more keys, and a pair of side monitors display a remarkably detailed, nearly up to the minute bird's eye image of the city, down to the block where the suspect vehicle was picked up in the first place. "I ran through all the optimal places along nearby escape vectors to abandon a vehicle, and scrapyards nearby that could have quashed the trail entirely; also nothing."

These locations flash as points of interest on the map, before being excluded one by one. It's a frustrating thing. Waiting for the Joker to strike again is never optimal-- at least with Harvey you've got about fifty-fifty. "Be careful repairing old batteries and mountings." The Dark Knight advises, and it's likely as ever a little hard for Dick to tell if it's from a place of fatherly concern-- or lack of confidence.

"Replace whatever you need to, sooner than you /need/ to." Never mind the depleted life cycles; the kind of stress their gear puts under, in the kind of situations at play, the last thing one wants is a fire or unplanned explosion! "What else do you need?" It's best to plan ahead, order and assemble in bulk.
Nightwing has posed:
    A short nod is given. Dick takes a few steps to the side. His reflection moves across the monitors as he moves from the right to the Batman's left. He pauses there, hand resting on his belt as he shifts the place where his domino mask rests.
    He turns his head looking off toward the storage areas, past the large display cases of the various uniforms, the equipment in their housings. His jaw extends a little, then his eyes narrow faintly.
    He looks back at Bruce's own reflection in the monitor.
    "You're alright with this?" He asks. Not defining the 'this'. Though chances are the man knows.
Batman has posed:
"You know the job." Batman answers the question, without answering the question. "If I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't be helping you operate." It's easy to take what is, in fact, a remarkable show of trust and faith as a snappy, backhanded sort of thing. That's the problem with being distant and stoic, Bruce.

"Just..." For perhaps the first time, the Dark Knight looks away from his work to track his partner's movement.

"... Be careful who you trust; and what you trust them with. It's not just your life." Nightwing's life would be plenty-- but it's not like Batman pauses to warmly clarify that part. Instead, he just watches, considers for a long moment; pensive behind stone-hewn features.
Nightwing has posed:
    The slightest of upnods is given, his lower lip worked at briefly in consideration. Then he nods a little more pronouncedly. "Yeah." He says, then there's a slight exhalation of breath that might almost be a laugh if he gave it just a little more juice.
    "You remember that too."
    He looks to the side, toward the stairwell, the elevator, the ways back into the mansion. Then he looks back to the other vigilante and murmurs. "So things are resolved?"
    Again the nebulous things. Yet he turns then, moving toward the storage area to get the gear he came for. Perhaps that simple act showing that he trusts that indeed things are resolved. Just good to hear the words. He'll likely hear the slight scrape of metal on metal as a storage drawer is opened, then the faint clink and clatter of gear being sorted.
Batman has posed:
A grunt that -might- be affirmation or dismissal answers Dick's turnabout of the arguably paranoid advice, and for a moment, the Caped Crusader considers his console's compilations and calculations. Then, Nightwing's query draws him back, and he looks after his eldest protege, blinking thrice and squinting intently.

"You tell me, Dick-- you're the one who always comes up with things that need to be 'processed' and 'resolved'." The emotion there is far more readable; as is the half of a smirk.

"Just make sure you let me know what other gear you're running through at an accelerated rate before the next manufacturing runs." Let's keep sight of what's important in life, here, shall we? Is that too much to ask?
Nightwing has posed:
    Another grunt from across the way, then a period of silence. Until finally a single word is given, not quite too low to be heard. But firm in its delivery.
    "True."
    He is the one that usually leans into the need for resolution. Then there's a scrape of metal again as one of those storage cabinets are closed. A pack is now slung over Nightwing's shoulder as he emerges from the inventory area, his footsteps quiet upon the metal walkways.
    Again he shows up looking the other man eye to eye for the first time in the evening. And for a while. "I'm not going to stop what I'm doing. Think it's needed. Just in case." He turns his head to the side as if considering the entirety of the city beyond the walls of that cave.
    Then those blue eyes return and he adds. "I might take my foot off the gas though." Which comes close to a vote of confidence.
Batman has posed:
"The entire point of having cellular operations and a network of allies is crisis protection and contingency." Perhaps not the ENTIRE point, Bruce. "Shoring up our ability to act and improvise independently on a wide scale to a wider range of threats is utilizing that network to its intended function." Like he said-- Nightwing knows the job. But so does the not-so-Old Man.

"You think you could cut me out of that loop if you actually decided you wanted to?" This time, the smirk is a little bit darker; not a threat, but there's a quiet element to the otherwise gentle chiding. -Could- they stop him? If they had to? How hard have they thought about it? It's not a duty with all the easy answers.

Bruce's blue eyes sparkle subtly, however-- there's no imminent danger in the weighty challenge. "You'll do what you think you have to do; and so will I." And that has, over many years, proven to be cooperative more than contentious a wide swath of the time.
Nightwing has posed:
    "Alright," Nightwing gives a nod, his brow slightly furrowed and there's no anxiety there. At least not visible. The corner of his mouth curves up slightly. "I'm heading to Bludhaven, gotta get some entirely different ducks in a row out that way. I'll give you our latest intel feed. The Shining Hand made some noise. Though I imagine you already know."
    And as easy as that... the status quo is returned. That pack on his shoulder is adjusted with a slight shift and roll, then he gets back on those tall gantry-ways across the depths of the cave, moving toward the rotating platform where his bike has finished turning around.
    "Tell Alfred I'll be by Sunday. For dinner." He slings that backpack into the saddlebag, locks it up with a click and a ka-clunk. Then he swings a leg over the motorcycle and brings the engine to life with a low rumble.